Blessed, Not Unlucky
by Disco Inferno1
Summary: A female wrestler is brought up from OVW to fill a vacant spot and has to deal with a personal backstage feud with another diva while she forms a relationship with Batista, to which she won’t or can’t fully commit. Full summary inside. -COMPLETE-
1. Speaking of Cherries

**_Blessed, Not Unlucky _**

**Summary: **Cheryl Ellis, known in the ring as Cherry Leigh, is brought up from OVW to fill a vacant spot in the women's division on RAW and Stacy Keibler holds a grudge against her from the start. Yet, she forms a relationship with Dave Batista but won't fully commit to him, or maybe she _can't_ give all of herself to him.

**Rating: **T or PG-13 for the usual warnings for WWE wrestling—mild swearing, in-ring/arena violence, and sexual situations.

**Disclaimer:** I do not in any way lay claim to any name or character in the WWE. This is not-for-profit fiction. The only profit received is pure entertainment. Original character of Cheryl "Cherry Leigh" Ellis is copyright of Disco Inferno1, 2004-05.

Personalities presented within are not necessarily those of the characters in real life nor are the views presented within necessarily those of the author. Poetic license has been taken with character personas and television canon.

Even though the fic is based on "reality," I have not used wrestlers' real names or their families' names (which I have subsequently made up). I am highly uncomfortable doing so since it feels as if I am writing a fic, for instance, about Sean Bean instead of "Boromir."

A big, _big_, **big**, BIG, _BIG_, **BIG** thanks to my beta Liz. Not only is she a fantastic beta reader, but she's an incredible author. After you read and review my chapter, scoot over to her page and read her awesome stories. Her pen name is **lucyzigg **and her author ID# is **394871**.

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_Chapter I: Speaking of Cherries_ **

The Harley's hum could be heard outside on the street before it careened into the covered parking lot. The driver slowed to a stop before the entrance and revved the engine twice before cutting it off. The camera zoomed in on the driver's boot nudging the kickstand in place. As the second of the pair of black boots joined the first, the camera panned up the long legs encased in jeans that molded to the defined muscles and then up past a red leather jacket. Reddish orange hair fell from the black helmet, streaked with red flames. The woman shook out short, loose curls that framed her face, tucked the helmet under her arm, and confidently strode through the open doors, tugging off her black leather gloves and stuffing them in the helmet.

"That does it, Miss Ellis," a male voice called and she quickly returned the way she came.

"Was that alright? I can do it again if—if you need me. I don't mind," the redhead nervously replied.

"Nope, it was fine, Miss Ellis," the director replied.

"Call me Cheryl."

"Thanks for that concession but we're not allowed to use first names."

"Oh," she quietly replied and laced her fingers together.

"Don't change a thing," the man said, nodding at her jacket, "and we'll come get you for the vignette with Evolution. It'll be a while, so get yourself something to eat if you haven't yet."

"Okay, thanks…" she trailed off, trying to remember the director's name but to no avail and only excusing herself.

Six weeks earlier, Cheryl Ellis' WWE career was being weighed by the creative team. The group was gathered around a long conference with Bruce Pritchard at one end and Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley at the other. Leather portfolios were open to legal notepads since laptops had been banned after one person was caught playing Solitaire and two more were caught sending nasty instant messages about a few members of the team.

Pritchard crossed off a finished item on the agenda and dropped his pen with a sigh. "We now have a dilemma with the women's division. As of yesterday, SmackDown! had three competing female wrestlers. As you know, Sable was released and, no, I won't go into details. No matter what Torrie does, she's still not up to par as a wrestler. We're left with Jackie Gayda and Dawn Marie." He stopped and glanced at all the faces around the table to be sure they were following him because it was about to get trickier. "Now, RAW has the majority of women _but_ Jazz and Trish Stratus are injured. Lita can't wrestle because of the Kane storyline _we_ put her in. Our current female wrestlers are Gail Kim, Nidia, Victoria, and Molly."

"There's Stacy," one young man piped in.

"No there's not. I'm tired of hearing complaints about how she can't wrestle. I want to reduce her to a non-wrestling role."

"Let's send Molly over to SmackDown!" Stacy's advocate replied. "It's not like she's a male favorite anyway. That gives you three wrestlers there and three on RAW and each show has one that doesn't wrestle. There's your solution. It's all equal."

"That's still a problem," a woman piped in.

"RAW needs another woman competing for the belt so that only the three of them don't grow stale," Stephanie cut in.

"But you're adding the RAW diva contest winner."

Pritchard tried to hide the look of disgust on his face. "The ratings haven't improved with the contestants and not one of them can act. There's potential but I plan on burying her fast and quick until she can get her butt in gear. _Plus_, she _won't_ be wrestling."

"So what _are_ you suggesting?" Stephanie said, slapping her pen down to show her anger at his comments about the contest, which was her idea.

"Look, all I want to do is bring up another woman from OVW," Pritchard answered.

"Unless she gets a push, she's not gonna make it. What brilliant idea do you have to get her over?" Vince's McMahon's daughter asked.

"I was thinking about bringing up Cheryl Ellis. Her ring name is Cherry Leigh," he replied, seeing some looks of recognition, and began passing out identical folders.

"She's not ready," someone interrupted.

"She's close enough, especially if we pair her with a character like Triple H." Stephanie's eyes went wide and Pritchard added, "As his half-sister. No romantic angles involved." Folders were opened and a few seconds of silence passed as the team perused a brief version of her portfolio. "Not that we care if there's any resemblance, but Cheryl could possibly pass for Hunter's half-sister. She may be red-headed but it's okay since Hunter's has a red tint to his. She's right at six feet and hasmeat on her bones unlike the majority of the other divas. But that's beyond the point."

"What is the point?" Stephanie asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"We'll find her a storyline of some sort just so long as she's introduced as the younger Helmsley, keeping her own last name," he added, seeing that perturbed look on Stephanie's face again, "and seen ever so often with Evolution or maybe coming out to occasionally help. That's all." He said the last phrase staring down at the youngest McMahon, thankful that her husband was not in attendance for this meeting. If the creative team approved it, Mr. I'm-meeting-with-a-director-to-star-in-a-movie would hopefully be stuck with it.

"Why Ellis?" another member asked.

"Luck of the draw. There's three other women down there right now, all at about the same level, and she just happens to fit the physical profile to be related to Triple H. I want her to make her debut the Monday after Vengeance."

The team was chomping at the bit to get to other storylines with their main characters and quickly agreed to begin thinking of what to do with "Cherry Leigh Ellis."

Right now,Cheryl was thinking of what she was going to do about herself. Food would be impossible to stick down her throat, constricted from nervousness. She had wanted to be introduced to those she would be working with last week but she had been put off and was now wondering the halls of the arena, terrified of meeting any of the superstars for fear that they would think her a weirdo fan. Luck had it in for her and she met no one she recognized but chance dwindled and introductions were now forced when she pushed the door open to the women's lockerroom to find the assembly of women.

Lita quickly stood and the others followed suit. "Cheryl Ellis?" she asked, holding out her hand.

"Yeah, that's me," she replied with a smile, which quickly fell into a bout of lip chewing, and returned the handshake. Besides Lita, the women she knew as Gail Kim, Stacy Keibler, Trish Stratus, Victoria, and Nidia were in attendance and introductions were made around the room.

Not that Cheryl was a loner but she felt smothered by so many people she didn't know. Fans were a different story. She was a character to them. Here, she was a real person as Trish quickly reminded her by asking, "So, where you from?"

The redhead tucked a leg under her as she settled in the folding chair and answered, "Hilton Head, South Carolina."

"Married?" she followed up.

"Was," Cheryl replied and switched legs, hoping to not have to share her life story to people she just met.

"Messy divorce, huh?" the blonde prodded.

She paused a second but decided honesty was the best policy and quietly replied, "Uh, no, widowed."

"Oh, what happened?" a nosy Stacy asked.

"It's not something I usually talk about," she replied, attempting to keep the edge out of her voice. Under any other circumstances, she could talk about her deceased husband without clamming up or breaking into tears. Yet, something in Stacy's tone hinted at insincerity and Cheryl pegged her for a gossip.

"That bad, huh? Any children?" the blonde responded.

Cheryl glanced down at her hands, twisting them together to contain her fidgeting, and shook her head. "Knock it off, Stacy," Lita quietly ordered and elbowed the taller woman.

The leggy blonde's questions had put a damper on the conversation and now the women turned to stilted niceties in front of the new girl. _First introductions suck, but they can't suck this bad_, Cheryl thought. With a lull in the conversation, she dug her script and reading glasses out of her gym bag and read through the dialogue again even though it had been fully committed to memory much earlier. Just when she thought she had been forgotten, a go-fer knocked on the door and called her name. She excused herself and tried not to rush away from the tension in the room.

The door was not even closed when Cheryl heard Stacy indignantly say, "So that's the bitch that beat me out for a push? I doubt she'll last." Her face must have turned redder than her jacket since the go-fer politely asked her if she was feeling alright. She nodded and they continued on as the inside of her cheek became a human chew toy.

The film crew was set up in a hallway in one of the quieter areas of the backstage. Vince McMahon was talking animatedly with his son-in-law while his daughter stood by and listened. They broke apart as Cheryl approached. A scowl formed on Stephanie's face as her father rushed forward to shake the new wrestler's hand. They had met upon the signings of Cheryl's OVW and WWE contracts.

"This is Cheryl Ellis," Vince announced, nudging her towards his daughter's husband. "Cheryl, you'll know this wonderful man as Triple H but I want you to meet my son-in-law, Hunter."

A meaty hand closed over her own and she met his smile. "Ready to get this thing started?" At a loss for words, she only nodded, having been warned about acting starstruck around the wrestlers. As Hunter led her away, she realized she hadn't been introduced to Stephanie. Hoping that the woman wasn't angry at her, she quickly turned around and found her tongue. "Ms. McMahon-Helmsley, it's truly a pleasure to meet you also."

Stephanie shook Cheryl's hand and dryly replied, "Likewise."

The redhead quickly returned to the group now gathered and introductions were made to "Evolution." Neither Ric Flair nor Randy Orton were her favorite characters but she put that aside and found them to be quite congenial during introductions. However, her gaze lingered much longer than was necessary on Dave Batista. Television didn't do the man's body justice as his muscles rippled at the slightest movement. A little tingle shot through her that surprised her but the director's voice brought her out of the moment. "Alright, introductions asides, let's go," he announced, blocked the scene out for them, and then counted down for action.

Now in her element, Cheryl rushed up to the group, the bike helmet tucked under her arm. "Hunter!"

"Oh my god, what are you doing here, Orange?" he replied, hugging her to him.

_Orange? That was definitely not in the script_, she thought and then recovered. "Red, Hunter, it's red."

"No, this is orange," he said, twirling a lock of her hair that brushed her collar. "This is red," he added, poking her in the shoulder of her jacket.

She rolled her eyes and murmured a 'whatever.' "I've got my first match tonight. I wrestle for WWE now."

Hunter narrowed his eyes. "You what? I thought—"

"Hey, champ, are you gonna introduce us to this lovely woman?" Ric Flair interrupted.

"Yeah, guys, this is Cheryl—"

"You can call me 'Cherry Leigh,'" she corrected and held her hand out to Ric.

"Speaking of cherries," Randy Orton began and started to cross the circle, a suggestive look on his face.

"Don't think about it," Hunter growled, slapping a hand on Orton's bare chest. "She's my little sister. Hands off."

"Just half-sister. So only one hand off," she purred. Hunter whipped around with a glare as the other three guys laughed.

"We'll talk later," he said to Cheryl. "What I said about 'hands off,' I mean it. I'll break every finger of any guy who touches you."

"I _am_ an adult now," she replied with a frown.

"But you'll always be my little sister," Triple H said where the rest of Evolution could hear. He then turned to her, blocking the others' view, and grasped her upper arm. Cheryl acted as if he was hurting her and pried at his fingers. "We'll talk later," he whispered angrily and then let go, giving her a slight nudge. She plastered on a smile and waved 'bye' to the other guys and then exited from the camera angle to let the guys finish the scene.

Dave Batista had watched her first vignette on the monitor before the commercial break and now the one they had filmed was playing after the same set of commercials. He had had his doubts about her as she seemed to shake with fear before the scene. Yet, on screen, she came across as if she had been doing that for years. He briefly talked with her afterward, along with the others, welcoming her to the business and wishing her well. She seemed to be less tight as they tried to make her more comfortable with the small talk. He had offered his services before he knew it, telling her she could call on him for anything she needed to get settled. She was different but he couldn't put his finger on why. He considered her to be cute instead of model type beautiful, her hair something he had a weird desire to good-naturedly tease her about. She carried herself differently, as if she was unsure of herself, unlike other divas he wouldn't name that strutted around like they owned the place. He just assumed she would relax when she got into the swing of things.

Out of curiosity, Batista found himself in front of the monitor again during her match, the second one of the final hour. He assumed she was going to be fed to one of the other divas as it was her debut and it seemed that only Gail Kim was lucky enough to come out on top of her first match, particularly with a belt.

Victoria was to be Cherry Leigh's opponent and the black-haired beauty waited in the ring. The intro of Trapt's "Headstrong" thumped into the sound system before the remixed song headed straight for the chorus and Cheryl bounded out from behind the black curtain into the red-hazed light. She was dressed in black patent leather pants, sporting two cherries on one butt cheek, and a red halter top of the same material, all skin-tight. The same cherry design, but much smaller, was tattooed on her right shoulder.

She abruptly stopped at the top of the ramp, threw her head back, and planted her hands on her hips. With a smug look, her gaze trailed across the audience, provocatively twisting her shoulders in tandem with her eyes. "Back off, I'll take you on. Headstrong to take on anyone. I know that you are wrong. Headstrong, we're headstrong." She then slowly sashayed down the ramp, head held high to reflect the lyrics as they repeated themselves. Climbing the steps and slipping in between the second and third ropes, she centered herself in the ring and fluidly faced each side of the ring with the same haughty look with her arms held out from her sides as if to say the words that Trapt's song blared, "This is not where you belong."

The red light faded and the bell rang. Batista considered nothing in the match to be any different than any of the others in which the divas participated, outside of the gimmick matches. Cheryl performed on par with the other women and he was grateful that she didn't suffer a repeat performance of Jackie Gayda's singles debut. He laughed to himself when she used the facebreaker, apparently a way to connect her character to Triple H. Looking forward to seeing what this limber woman had up her sleeve as a finishing move, he was disappointed to see Trish Stratus interfere in the match, something the wrestler herself was disappointed in also. She was proud of the Cherry Stem, the inverted step-over toe hold face lock she had worked for months on end to get right.

Cheryl paused at the top of the ramp after the other divas had entered and, looking out over the ring, mouthed, "That's for you, Pierce." She then accepted the congratulations offered to her, slipping a little out of her aloof shell. She felt she didn't deserve the praise because there had been so little establishment of her character and it was just an everyday match. Cherry Leigh was to begin as a neutral character, teetering on the edge as she struggled with siding with the likes of Victoria and Lita (or whoever was a face that week) but still being faithful to a brother she loved. The long-range plans were to turn her heel and have her do the occasional dirty work for Evolution. She would be the reason for an occasional feud as Triple H pounded any of the guys that looked twice at her. She was going to be an experiment, a diva who could be one of the guys, hence the motorcycle at the beginning but also later bouts of beer swilling. Sad thing was the new wrestler had no idea if a championship run was in that future but that wasn't why she was here.

With the show in full swing, the women's lockerroom was a flurry of activity throughout the night and the introvert Cheryl had stayed in her corner and spoken only when spoken to. Introverts are mistakenly thought to be withdrawn into themselves but solitude is where they draw their inner strength. Cheryl was no different. She could handle herself in a crowd but not for long periods of time. That time had just about ended and the quiet of the hotel was calling her name. As the odd woman out, she was lucky in having a room of her own, one she hadn't had time to check into until now since the show was over.

The redhead tapped her keycard against the attendant's desk as the paperwork was being taken care of. She was just antsy to be in her room and out of the dress suit she was in. The decree that they had to travel professionally dressed didn't sit well with her either but she wasn't about to tempt fate and chose to show up at the hotel in a suit. Finally, she was able to leave the front desk and passed by the bar that was crawling with people.

Dave Batista was stepping out of the second elevator as Cheryl was stepping in the first one. Seeing her disappear inside, he wondered if anyone had invited her down for drinks as was the norm for a bit of after partying. He went on by and then decided that it would only be right if the new girl was invited to this "ritual." Hurrying back to the elevators, he watched the floor numbers light up until it stopped and then he raced up the stairs to see her navy blue suitcase trail after her into one of the rooms. He waited a moment and then knocked on her door.

"Just a minute," Cheryl shouted from the other side, her eye to the peephole, and then quickly dug through her suitcase for the mint green terrycloth robe as she had flung off the suit before she was barely inside the room. Even though she was completely bewildered as to why Dave Batista was knocking on her door, she plastered on a smile and pulled the door open. "What can I do for you?"

"Good job tonight."

"Thanks," she replied with a nod.

"Did anybody invite you down for drinks?" he asked, propping a hand on the doorframe.

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, trying to remember if anyone had. "I don't think so."

"Well, consider yourself invited."

"Thanks, but I'm gonna pass. Tonight was exhausting and I don't think I can handle anymore," she replied, running her left hand through her hair.

Dave noticed a gold glint on her ring finger but couldn't determine if it was a wedding band. Not wanting her to think he was coming on to her, he passed on asking if she was married and if not going down was her way of avoiding men asking her out in the bar. "Alright, then, if you change your mind, we'll be down there for a while," he said.

"Thanks, again," she softly replied and eased the door shut. Even though Batista was physically gone, his presence was still with her as the heady scent of his cologne hung in the doorway. _Maybe I should go down_, she thought and picked the suit up off the floor. Then, another tingle like the one when she had first met him ran down her spine when she thought about running her fingers through his black curls. She hadn't had those kinds of tingles since she had met her husband. The diva decided that there was no point in opening that possible avenue and that it was better to remain in her room then think about those curls with him bodily there. Choosing to stamp down those ideas, she called her older brother and then her parents to report on how her first night had gone.

Batista kept his eye on the doors for half an hour, watching for Cheryl and barely listening to the conversation at his table.

"Man, you haven't paid attention to a word I've said. What girl are you looking at?" Randy Orton asked.

"Huh?" Dave said, whipping his head back around. "Oh, it's nothing. I'm just a little distracted."

"Well, snap out of it because those girls over there are oogling us," Randy replied and pointed to his right.

"Yeah, okay," he responded, a little surprised at himself for hoping that the new girl would come down.

TBC…

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Author's Notes:** Well, here I am again. I got enough comments in _Loyalty of Friendship_ about Batista and Samia hooking up that I thought I'd do Dave and my readers right. I hope y'all enjoy! 

Don't know who's who so I filled it in, such as Pritchard heading up the creative team meeting (although I heard he had been fired shortly after I wrote this and that he's supposedly back, only having taken a break for vacation, but it works all in the name of fanfic). I have no idea who heads up filming the vignettes. Let me know, nicely, if I get something wrong. Just a heads up so you won't be disappointed when it doesn't come up but Cheryl Ellis is not kin to Triple H in any shape, form, or fashion even though they slightly resemble each other.


	2. Things For Which You Can't Prepare

**_Chapter II: Things For Which You Can't Prepare_**

The house show felt like a waste of time but Cheryl was doing what she loved. She was scheduled to lose to Nidia and the match went off without a hitch. Stacy was off doing promo work and she and the remaining women had talked more freely, even if it was only about what she thought of the WWE that diminished into the weather in the cities that they would be traveling to next. It was better than the stilted niceties from her first night.

Monday came as an absolute surprise, especially after the weekend show went so smoothly. Cheryl was stopped by an assistant before she made it to the women's lockerroom. "Mr. McMahon wants you to put your things in the dressing room and immediately go see him."

"Yes, sir," she replied, headed inside, and dropped her sportsbag in a cubbyhole. She greeted Nidia and Gail, the only two in the room, and explained why she was leaving. Vince ran across her as he was returning to his office.

"Cheryl," Vince said, greeting her with a cocky smile. "Everything went so well last week, I want to extend the same welcome that I give to all…I'm taking you to dinner this evening."

"But, but I have a match with…with…I mean, I won't have time to get ready and…and…"

"Let me explain something. When the boss hands down an order, you take it with a smile," he grimly said. Her eyes went wide and she dropped her gaze to the floor. "Come on, I was just kidding. I've decided that your match is off tonight and you'll just have a promo with Evolution along with the one-on-one talk with your 'brother'. Nothing to exactly prepare for."

"Alright, sir."

"When I'm ready to leave, I'll have someone come get you," he stated.

"Sir?" she tentatively began, "I don't have the script for this promo."

"Oh, yeah. The creative team is just finishing up with it. I'll give it to you over dinner."

With that, Cheryl was dismissed and she returned to the lockerroom. To her dismay, Stacy Kiebler was in the room. The redhead was still bothered by Stacy's comment and wanted to confront her on it but just wasn't sure how to go about it. Nidia asked her what Vince wanted and Cheryl downplayed the dinner. Stacy snorted and then slightly smiled as if she knew something that Cheryl didn't. The new diva turned away and asked Lita how her flight was.

Eventually an assistant retrieved Cheryl and she waved 'bye', easily noticing the smug look on Stacy's face. She was going to straighten things out next week, no matter what it took.

The Helmsleys were in McMahon's office and Stephanie actually smiled at Cheryl. "Hunter's going with us to dinner. That fine with you?" Vince asked.

"Am I supposed to protest?" she asked facetiously.

"You guys have fun," Stephanie called after them as Cheryl was helped into the waiting limousine.

Something didn't feel right but she chalked it up to nervousness being around the head honcho in the business and his second-in-command. No matter what Hunter's title, everyone knew that he was being groomed to take over. Vince talked on about the history of his business, as if he was politely informing her how grateful she should be for being allowed to work for them. She laced her fingers together and locked her ankles to keep from fidgeting and never lost a word he said because she _was_ grateful to be there.

The drive was long enough for Hunter and Cheryl to discuss the vignette that they would be doing later. Before they knew it, the two had made revisions to the dialogue and were ready to go without a hitch. She was fairly surprised that he was so congenial and so much less haughty than she had ever imagined.

The restaurant wasn't as high class as she expected but it wasn't something that she could have afforded on her previous salary. Once seated at the table, Vince prodded her to talk about herself.

"There's almost thirty years worth. You got something more specific in mind?" she asked with a laugh.

"No, just talk," he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I can tell you I'm nervous about tonight since I have no idea about the promo."

"Getting straight to business. I like you, girl." McMahon produced several pages of script and Cheryl pulled out her wire-rimmed glasses and they quickly talked through them. She was enthralled since this would be her first 'live' promo and wished they could spend more time on it. "Something's not right," he muttered, taking the pages back from her. He perused the papers and Hunter shrugged his shoulders when Cheryl looked to him. Vince's cell phone rang and he glanced down at the callerID. "I've got to take this call. Excuse me for a moment."

The chairman of WWE disappeared _and_ took thescript with him. "So…" Cheryl started.

"So…forget business. Who's your favorite wrestler?" Helmsley asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

She laughed and shook her head. "I'm not telling. I would hate to offend you."

"Come on. I won't tell and I won't be upset," the blonde prodded.

"Current or any?"

"Any."

"Kevin Nash," she answered, knowing their relationship. That touched off a long one-sided conversation about the Kliq, which was absolutely fine with her. She could listen to him talk about the group forever.

Cheryl glanced down at her watch and noticed that Vince had been gone for almost twenty minutes. She and Hunter had made it through the drinks and an appetizer and he had yet to return. "Do you think you should go check on him?" she interrupted.

He too looked down at his watch and nodded. "Yeah, I have no idea what's going on but it can't be good."

Cheryl sat on her hands to keep from picking at her nails and chewed the inside of her cheek as she waited for them to return. After about ten minutes, she pulled their server aside and explained that they were having problems and to hold their plates until the rest of her party returned. Another ten minutes passed and her entrée was brought out. "Mr. McMahon and Mr. Helmsley had to leave but they asked that you stay and enjoy your dinner. The bill is already taken care of and the limo is waiting for you," the server explained.

"What happened?" she asked, trying to keep the distress from her voice.

"I was not informed of the situation. My apologies."

Cheryl was so worried that she could barely eat. Whatever was going on did not involve her and she tried to remind herself of that and finish the meal. Curiosity and concern got the best of her and she wolfed down the pasta. Checking once again on the bill, she gathered her purse and left the restaurant to find the limo. The driver, a man who easily fit the look of a wrestler, held the door open for her. She glanced around to see if maybe a note was left for her but nothing. There was still time for her to get to the arena and quickly change while going over the scripts for both her appearances on the show.

After what she believed to be about the same time as the drive to the restaurant, she rolled down the black partition and asked how close they were to the arena. "Traffic's been rerouted, ma'am. There's some kind of construction and we've had to take a detour. We shouldn't be much farther." She thanked him and the black glass returned to its place.

When the state patrol car pulled up behind them with flashing lights, Cheryl was fit to be tied. She had thirty minutes to get to the arena, get in her outfit and make-up, learn her lines for the opening shot, and get in the ring. It wasn't going to happen. With luck, she had programmed into her phone the backstage coordinator's cell number, the guy all of the wrestlers were to call if they were going to be late. She explained the situation, verging on panic, but she was reassured that everything would be alright and that he would ask Lita to have her things ready.

When the glass partition slid down, she was surprised to see the patrolman stare at her for a moment through the driver's window and then glance around the seats. "Please remain here, ma'am, and we'll have you on the road soon," the officer said.

Cheryl watched out the window as the driver stepped out of the limo and the two men conferred for what she felt like was forever. Eventually, it seemed that the situation was resolved and a ticket conferred. She was relieved that they would be on their way but she wasn't even sure if she would arrive at the arena on time. To try to calm the panic attack welling up, she worked through what she could remember of the script as she reapplied her make-up and straightened her black skirt and blue blouse. It wasn't Cherry Leigh material but, with a few buttons undone and a roll of the skirt, it would pass this once.

The limo careened into the parking lot at 9:00 on the dot. The vehicle hadn't even come to a complete stop and she was running through the lot. Stage hands cleared the way as she propelled herself through the halls at top speed. Hitting a dead-end, she screamed in frustration and ran the other way. There was still the welcome by the announcers and an opening montage. She kept thinking that there was a possibility she might make it. Finally arriving atthe gorilla position and hauling herself up the steps, she was greeted by a sour-looking McMahon, shaking his head. "They're already out there. It's too late."

"Oh my god, oh my god, I am so sorry! I tried, I really tried," she apologized, tears starting to well up in her eyes as she stumbled down the steps. "Please, please, don't—don't fire me." The redhead leaned up against the wall, trying to catch her breath. "I really—" She gulped for breath and looked up at McMahon to see all four members of Evolution behind him. "But you're…y'all…wh—what's…" she spluttered pointing at them and then out towards the ring.

Vince laughed and put an arm around her. "There was no promo. Nothing was here at the arena that needed me or Hunter."

Her mouth dropped opened as half of the staff and wrestlers were gathered around to watch her reaction. She stared at Vince, her mouth still agape. "But…but…"

"It's like Candid Camera for the WWE and no one, _no one_ here hasn't been through a practical joke like that on their first or second night," Helmsley explained.

The red that crept up her neck and throughout her cheeks rivaled that of her leather jacket. She wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Her eyes swept over the crowd, the laughing faces, all good-natured, but she felt so embarrassed she could die. She dropped her gaze and then looked back up, focusing on Dave Batista. He looked a bit anxious with a fake smile. His face changed and he seemed to be saying, "Go on, laugh at yourself."

Cheryl took a deep breath and glanced around again. She managed a weak smile and an even weaker laugh. "You got me," she said through an exhale and readjusted her clothing.

McMahon and a few others gave her a one-armed hug but Nidia, Lita, and Victoria squeezed her tight. "You made it through," one of them whispered. _I wish I hadn't, _she thought.

As people started to drift away, Batista put a hand on her shoulder. "You okay? There was a minute there I thought you were gonna pass out."

"Yeah, I was just…trying to deal with thinking I was fired an-and then finding out it was all a joke. Did they do that to you?"

"Yeah, I'll have to tell you about it some time. You've got to learn to laugh at yourself around here or they'll rib ya non-stop," Dave explained and unexpectedly found himself watching her left hand to see a ring.

"I will keep that in mind."

"Hunter wanted me to tell you to get changed and meet him in thirty minutes for your vignette," Dave added, catching the flash of gold on this glance. He still couldn't tell if it was a wedding band and mentally chided himself for even caring to look.

"Yeah, I'll be there," she replied.

The audience and home viewers later watched Triple H and his sister have it out. "Why _are_ you here? What's wrong with staying in Connecticut?" Hunter demanded.

"Okay, I get you," Cherry Leigh replied, narrowing her eyes in anger. "It's okay for me to play in the backyard but, when I come to your playground, it's not okay."

"This isn't a playground. This is it, this is _the _game," he forcefully stated.

"And I plan on playing it," the redhead replied, planting her hands on her hips.

"It's not as easy as I make it look."

"If I went on how you make it look, I should be able to kick your ass."

"Listen, I ought to send you packing right now," he ground out, pointing a finger in her face. "As a matter of fact, I think I am. Get your stuff and go home. I won't tell you twice."

He grabbed her by the arm and started pulling her towards the door but she jerked away from him. "Are you afraid I'm gonna show you up or something?"

"I can't do my job and watch you too."

"I'm all grown up," she insisted, straightening herself up higher. "I'm not that little girl in pigtails anymore that you can throw around over your shoulder. While you've been here making your way to the top, you forgot that you've got a family, you've got a sister. While you were away, I _grew up_! I can take care of myself. I got _here _without _you._"

Triple H dropped his head in exasperation. "Fine. Don't expect any help out of me."

"Fine. I won't," she replied.

"Fine then."

"Alright."

"Just make it easier on me and stay out of trouble," he said with an exasperated sigh.

"I could try."

"By the way, Orange, you may not have pigtails but I can still throw you over my shoulder!" he declared, grabbing her around the waist and hefting her up like a sack of potatoes. She giggled loudly until the director informed them the shot was over.

"Alright, put me down," she ordered.

"Where?"

"Anywhere," she replied through a giggle as his hand unintentionally tickled her side.

He spun around quickly and she barely caught Batista out of the corner of her eye. Helmsley twirled back around and called, "Dave, catch!"

"No, no, no," she started shouting, her eyes wildly trying to focus, but Hunter had an arm around her, rolling her onto Dave's shoulder. The dark-haired man allowed her to slide down his body until her feet touched the ground, then she stepped back from him like he had scalded her. The tingles were back, accompanied by goosebumps.

"We don't bite," Hunter said with a laugh. "Just relax. We're your family. Do your job and have fun at it. Learn to laugh at yourself. Right, Dave?"

Batista flashed a crooked grin and nodded. "I'll try," she said, managing a smile.

"See you later, Cheryl," Hunter called as he headed out the door.

"They got me twice. Well, actually, I set myself up for one of them," Dave stated nonchalantly.

"Is that a warning?" she replied with a smirk.

"Could be," he said, glancing down at his watch. "I have to be in the ring with Evolution. See ya around."

Cheryl was ready for that hole to swallow her up at any time. She sat down in the empty room and sighed, wondering what it was about Batista that made her feel like she was alight with a thousand ants. _I bet every woman feels that way around him. I mean, he just exudes masculinity, _she thought. Feeling the issue was resolved, she started to return to the women's lockerroom to wait out the rest of the show when Shawn Michaels stopped her.

The redhead sucked in her breath when the Showstopper _stopped _her. Yeah, she knew he was married but he was a legend and a wrestler that she and almost everyone else looked up to. "Cheryl, hi, I didn't get a chance to say 'welcome' with everybody earlier."

"Th-that's no…uh, problem," she stammered out.

"I also wanted to let you know that a few of us meet two hours before the show for prayer and a short Bible study, so you're more than welcome to join us."

"Uh, yeah, thanks…"

"Alright, maybe I'll see you then, kid," he said, pointing at her and clicking his tongue before walking off. Cheryl watched as he headed down the hall, amazed at the fact that she had just talked to, no, been talked to by Shawn Michaels and feeling like an idiot for not saying anything that she had wanted to say about him being her idol. Trying to rub the heat from her cheeks, she entered the ladies' lockerroom.

"Hey, I'm glad to see you," Lita said when she came in the door. "We're rooming together tonight. Matt can't travel yet, so it's us."

"Oh…that's fine," Cheryl replied. _Not really, _she thought, _I need to have a personal pity party and wallow in my embarrassment. _She knew that the practical joke was an initiation rite but she felt so stupid for not seeing it coming. She should have known something when Stephanie and Stacy were in good spirits around her. Stephanie obviously didn't like her by virtue of having to work with Hunter and Stacy felt scorned by the creative team because ofCheryl being brought up. When neither McMahon nor Helmsley came back to the table without an explanation, she should have known. When everything kept them from getting back to the arena and the coordinator was okay with her being late, she should have known. That was what was so embarrassing. She felt so gullible.

"When you're ready, let's go," Lita said, breaking into her thoughts.

Shortly after the two were settled in the hotel room, a knock sounded at the door and Lita went to answer it. In walked Nidia and Victoria with a six pack of beer and two pizzas. "I invited them over for a midnight snack. I hope you don't mind, Cheryl," Lita said apologetically as she shut the door behind the two women.

"No problem. I'll stay out of the way and read."

"We were hoping you'd join us," Nidia stated and held up the pizza boxes. "We've got more than enough."

The smell of pepperoni drew her to the table where Nidia set them down. She couldn't remember the last time she had pizza. "If you're sure?"

"Yeah," they chorused. Cheryl was more of a Corona woman but she caught the Budweiser that Victoria tossed her and settled down at the table. The women dug in at the same time and Nidia's engagement ring scraped against Cheryl's hand.

"Sorry about that," she said. "Did it cut you?"

"No, I'm fine."

"I told Eric I didn't want something so big, but, then again, what woman wouldn't want something like this?" she said, waving her hand before taking a bite of the pizza.

"Just out of curiosity, that's Kurt Angle's brother you're talking about?" Cheryl asked and Nidia nodded. "I was wondering. You can't exactly believe everything you hear."

That started the conversation about how Eric proposed to her and then she demanded Lita tell the story of how she met Matt. All three then turned to her, staring at her expectantly. "It's your turn. How did you meet your husband? What was he like?"

Cheryl nervously laughed. "Pierce was one of those guys who lived up to his name. He had three studs and two rings in each ear and that wasn't counting the nipple ring, nose ring, the bellybutton ring… He had plans for a few more but I met him and stopped him before he got that far. This was…" she paused to think then continued, "…seven years ago this past summer."

_Cheryl had passed by the nightclub "The Zone" several timesas the day's events were navigated for her grandparents' funeral. From the moment she woke up, she planned on getting drunk and was at the club not long after it opened. She didn't even bother negotiating the cover charge, slapping a bill in the guy's hand and heading straight for a barstool. _

_The bartender placed a napkin before her and asked, "What would you like this evening?"_

_Not being much of a drinker, she popped off the first thing that came to mind without even looking up. "Smirnoff Ice."_

_A shot glass was slid in front of her and she crinkled her brow. "Wild Turkey. Try it," the bartender said._

_"That's not what I ordered," she replied angrily, looking up at him._

_"If you wanna get drunk, Smirnoff's not gonna do it," he smirked and folded his arms across his wide chest. She finally took stock of his appearance. He was dressed in all black, the tight t-shirt showing off all he owned. He was probably 6'2'' and filled out every inch of that with a well-built, slender body. His spiky hair was dark blonde, the ends bleached by the sun. He was a fine specimen of manhood that she wouldn't mind getting a hold of. Cheryl stared at him, mouth agape. "Go ahead, try it. But write down your address first," he stated, unfolding his arms and tossing her a pen. "We get four or five of those in you and I'll have to send you home in a cab. I need to know where you live."_

_"Are you trying to come on to me?" she asked indignantly._

_"No, I'm serious. I don't want to have to take you home at the end of my shift."_

_"Oh, thanks. I'm glad to know that I'm some…some…" She couldn't find the word she wanted and she didn't even have a drop of alcohol in her yet._

_"Woofer?"_

_"Something like that."_

_"Trust me, under any other circumstance, I'd be glad to take you home with me." She stared at him wide-eyed, attempting to find a response. "Are you gonna drink it?"_

_"I don't know," she stammered, trying to make sense of the situation. It wasn't helping that she couldn't quit staring at this man that had her mesmerized._

_He took the shot glass from her and then tossed the bourbon back himself. "You look like a classy lady. How 'bout I fix you a gin an' tonic?" he said in a Southern drawl that raised chill bumps on her skin._

_Cheryl didn't feel classy but the black dress and upswept hairdo probably said otherwise. She hadn't changed from the funeral and fellowship dinner afterward. "I think a good ol' margarita'll handle it."_

_"Sure thing, Miss…" he trailed off, looking at her as he pulled bottles from under the counter to mix the drink. "That's where you say your name."_

_"Cheryl Leigh," she answered._

_"Alright, Miss Leigh," he drawled, glancing around the counter to see if any other customers waited since he had already spent so much time with her. The other bartender seemed to be handling it and she needed the tips more than he did at the moment._

_"Just call me 'Cheryl'," she sighed. "And you are?"_

_"Pierce, Pierce Ellis. So, do I get your address?"_

_"I'm guessing not since I'm not drinking that Wild…Wild Chicken or whatever it was."_

_"Turkey," he corrected. "So, I don't get your address, even if I tell you that the margarita's on the house."_

_"Free alcohol doesn't get you in my pants," she replied, a half of the drink already down her._

_"I'm not trying…at the moment. So what brought you here all in a huff wanting to get drunk?"_

_"You don't want to hear my sorry problems."_

_"It goes with the job," he replied, leaning on the counter beside her._

_With a heavy sigh, she let it all go. Never in a million years would she have confided this easily to a stranger but everything had built itself up to a boiling point. She blubbered on about being newly graduated from college with no job waiting and no clue where to go for employment since her degree really didn't qualify her for anything. Now, a month after graduation, her grandparents had been killed in a boating accident. She groaned on about how they had left her and her brother their winter house there in Hilton Head and their summer house in Maine and having too many decisionsto make._

_By this time, she was almost through her second margarita. "I need to quit whining. Sorry. Anything you wanna whine about? Tell me about yourself."_

_"We'll have to save that for another time. It's starting to fill up in here and I need to go help Julie."_

_"Yeah, no problem," she replied, waving her drink at him._

_By the time Pierce had made it back around to her, she was gone. On her napkin was written: "You'll have to wait another time for my address. –Cheryl."_

"Not quite the romantic beginning, huh?" she laughed as she finished the story. "Victoria, tell us about, uh, Alan. That's his name, right?" The women wanted to prod her for more but this was the most she had opened up since coming to the WWE and they weren't going to push her. Nidia had suggested the night-time rendezvous after seeing Cheryl's initial reaction to the hazing to let her know that it was all in good spirits. She considered the evening to be progressing even better now that Cheryl was slipping them tidbits about her private life. It was not that she didn't talk but preferred to keep silent about parts of her life. She didn't want to hear the half-sentimental coos of sympathy from people about her past.

TBC…

**

* * *

Author's Notes:** This timeline does not necessarily correspond with RAW's. As a matter-of-fact, it only corresponds when it suits my purpose. I'm being terrible and taking the easy way out by borrowing the parts of TV storyline to suit my fic's purpose. 

As toStephanie's andPritchard's places on thecreative team,I think Steph is head of the creative team also but I was trying to go for the idea that Creative is split into two teams (RAW and SmackDown!) and she hovers back and forth to approve what they're doing and, of course, throw in some of her own ideas. She flat out doesn't like what Pritchard wants to do with Cherry's character but she knows he's right about the need to do it.


	3. Who's Fooling Who?

For ratings, disclaimers, etc., see chapter one.

**_Chapter III: Who's Fooling Who?_**

Cheryl had no problems with the hazing beyond her gullibility but _this_ was beyond a good-natured acceptance. The lipstick she knew she had put in her make-up had disappeared and now she sported bright orange lips from a tube that had been borrowed. The color had gone on a scarlet red, a fitting shade for Cherry Leigh, but then changed as she began thinking about the embarrassment of last week and the strange thoughts popping in her head about playing with Dave Batista's black curls.

"What's wrong with your lips?" Trish asked, coming closer to inspect them.

"Nothing, I guess," Cheryl replied, pursing them. She fumbled for her cosmetic mirror, found the horror that was now on her mouth, and quickly began rubbing it with a cotton pad to no avail. Finding some soap, she washed as hard as she could but the lipstick wasn't coming off.

Short guffaws came from out of nowhere and Trish and Cheryl looked up to see Stacy trying to hold in the snorts. "What's so funny?" Trish asked.

"You're foaming at the mouth like a mangy dog," she said in a voice squeaky from holding back the laughter.

"Did you do this?" Trish demanded. Stacy's eyes grew wide and she feigned an innocent look. "I ought to…" Trish started to say and balled up her fists. Stacy skittered like a dog clawed by a frightened cat.

"It-it's not coming off," Cheryl wailed after rinsing the soap off.

"What's not coming off?" Victoria asked, coming in the door, and walking over to Cheryl.

"_My _lipstick disappeared and I-I borrowed somebody else's and this," she pointed at her mouth, "is what happened and it won't come off!"

"Put another shade over it," Victoria offered and picked up her cosmetic bag. While Cheryl tried different shades of pink and red, the two other women combed Stacy's belongings.

"Was this the one you used?" Trish asked, holding a tube up. Cheryl glanced at her and nodded in the affirmative but then Trish shook her head.

"That color, uh, uh," Victoria stated, expressing the thought for the both of them. The redhead started frantically rubbing her lips again.

"I think I was the one who handed this to you, but I don't know who I got it from," Trish muttered.

"S'okay."

"It's not okay if you don't get that off or something over it," Trish replied and then studied the offending tube. "It's cheap mood lipstick…let's see…orange…were you nervous?"

"That's an understatement," Cheryl replied.

The knock at the door startled all three of them. "Ms. Ellis, you're supposed to be filming as we speak," a male voice called.

"Oh god! I'm coming! Five seconds! Help me!" she wailed.

Cosmetics were spread out over the vanity and the women picked at the various tubes. "Here," Victoria ordered, handing her a maroon shade. Cheryl looked at it in disgust and spread it on anyhow. It was the best combination she had seen all night. If only her lips could match the red in cheeks brought on by her intense anger for what Stacy had done. "Now go," the black-haired beauty said, handing Cheryl her red leather jacket and pushing her towards the door.

The new diva smoothed a hand over her clothes and hair for what felt like the thousandth time before the director counted them down. It was a simple scene that led to all of Evolution leaving the room except for Randy Orton, who then made a simple pass at her before the camera cut.

Batista watched her, her lips looking a bit more plump than usual and her anxiety obvious in the way she wrung her hands before they began taping. Feeling slightly nervous over staring at her lips, his eyes dropped down to the choker and the cherry pendant that dangled on her neck. As she spoke, it swayed sensually inside of the hollow of her throat and his stomach tightened. He turned away but the image of the dangling pendant was stuck behind his eyes.

As Cheryl slipped away, Dave called after her, absolutely surprised at himself that he had stopped her. "The sting of last week worn off yet? You looked really nervous."

"I had a make-up crisis, making me late, both not exactly helping," she angrily muttered,

"How do you do it? Go from looking like a scared rabbit to this 'queen of the stage' thing?"

"I wouldn't describe it that way. It's just acting. I'm another person and she doesn't have the fidgets or get nervous."

"How did you come to figure that out?" Dave asked, slightly cocking his head

"It's sort of a long story," she replied, shrugging her shoulders to brush him off.

"I've got a while if you do," he said, settling down on a black storage crate.

"It's boring."

"But I'm interested," he said, patting the crate beside himself.

Cheryl shook her head and leaned up against the wall. She knew better than to sit by him dressed in a black suit and a sapphire blue shirt. He looked sharp, from the tie down to the polished shoes, and her neck began to heat up around her collar as she thought about him. "The only thing I'd ever been good at was softball. I went to UNC on a full softball scholarship—starting third baseman four years in a row," she added and curtseyed.

"Impressive."

"Luck. The rest of my stats aren't that pretty. Anyhow, near the middle of my second year, my advisor told me I had to declare a major the next semester. Well, I enrolled in theatre appreciation against my will because it was the only thing that would fit around my practice schedule. I thought I would puke every time I went to class 'cause I was so afraid of acting. After several weeks, I found out that I could absorb myself into a character. I could be another person and this," she wrung her hands as if for emphasis, "and my stuttering would just go away. Have you ever watched Hugh Grant give an interview?"

"Yeah, that horny pansy," he murmured.

"I was drawing an analogy. Thanks for the compliment," she sarcastically replied. Dave blushed when he realized what she meant. "Don't worry about it. Anyway…that's me."

"You weren't nervous or stuttering talking to me just now."

Cheryl looked off to the side, thinking about what he had just said. "I guess it's because I consider you a friend and I'm comfortable around you."

"Well then, friend, the invitation still stands for getting drinks after the show," he stated, considering it to be an innocent offer for her to join the group in the bar.

"Thanks but I kinda have plans," she replied since the girls had decided that tonight was another pizza and beer night. They figured that the once a week indulgence wouldn't hurt their figures if that was all they slacked on.

"Okay," Dave replied, trying not to let his disappointment show as he realized that the offer was indeed selfish and he wanted her to go out with him. "Just be sure your dinner date doesn't run off this time."

"I'm not going out to—oh, ha, ha, very funny!" she sarcastically replied but smiled at him anyway.

When the director had yelled 'cut,' Cheryl had a one-track mind for hunting Stacy Keibler down. She knew about the no-fighting decree backstage but that didn't mean she still couldn't provoke the woman into starting something. The place was run like a school—the person who threw the first punch was the one to get in trouble. Dave stopping her had lessened her anger somewhat, along with her drive to bitch-slap the blonde. She'd get her back but in her own time.

"Has anyone seen Stacy since I left?" Cheryl asked.

Victoria shook her head and then held up a tube of lipstick. "Is this yours?"

"Yeah."

"We found it in the trashcan," Victoria offered.

Cheryl took the tube from her and tossed it back in her bag. "I haven't been this mad since that time I wanted to kill Pierce," she muttered to herself, running her hands through her hair and plopping down on the bench. She glanced up to see everyone's eyes focused on her. "What?"

"You know we're gonna badger you until you tell us the story," Nidia stated, crossing her arms.

"I can't believe I said that out loud," she sighed. "Fine."

_It had been six days since Cheryl had first found herself in "The Zone" and now she was drifting in again, in denial that the reason was to see Pierce. She slipped up on the barstool and noticed Julie, the other bartender, coming her way much to her chagrin. "What would you like?"_

_"Wild Chicken," she answered, knowing she was incorrect but only wanting to see Pierce's reaction to the joke._

_"I'm sorry. I don't think we have any of that," the brunette tentatively replied._

_"Pierce told me that y'all do."_

_Julie tried to hide the look on her face of wondering what in the hell this woman was talking about and went to tap on Pierce's shoulder. Cheryl wanted to laugh out loud as she watched the confused woman explain Cheryl's request. The smile that lit up his face melted her on the spot and her cheeks were flushed by the time he had made his way to her. "Finally come back for a taste of Wild Turkey?"_

_"No, something light today. I still don't want to give you my address."_

_"How 'bout a phone number then?" he asked with a sexy grin._

_"What? Another one to add to your growing list?" she scoffed but then smiled._

_"Why don't you give it to me and we'll see?" he said, handing her the drink._

_"I'll think about it," she demurely replied. He made his apologies and moved on to the next customer. Cheryl slowly slipped the drink and watched the live band. Pierce often came by and they passed flirtatious comments back and forth._

_By the time she was ready for her second drink, the man sitting beside her on a barstool was pawing the woman with him, something she obviously didn't like. Pierce tapped the guy on the shoulder and asked the woman if there was a problem. The man had a few choices words about staying out of his business._

_"Can I ask a favor of you?" Pierce asked her. "Find Mike, he's the bouncer. Dressed all in black, bald, biggest guy in the place. Eric's sick and we've only got Mike tonight."_

_"Let me try something," she said, not sure where the boldness was coming from—probably a way to try to impress him._

_"Cheryl, don't—" But she was already off her stool, imagining herself on an improv stage. He watched her speak with the couple and the man flung himself from the stool and stomped out of the place. She said a few words to the woman, who smiled and then loosened up. "How did you do that?" he asked when she settled back on the seat._

_She shrugged her shoulders. "Sometimes it takes a feminine touch. Plus, he had on a wedding band and she didn't."_

_"Would you pick a fight for me?"_

_"What?" Cheryl exclaimed._

_"I'll keep you out of trouble, I promise. I have an idea," he said as if concentrating on his plan._

_"And that would be?"_

_"I'll tell you afterward." She rolled her eyes and waited for him to tell her. Some chick was coming on heavy to him but he had tolerated her, knowing that Mike was the only bouncer for the night. Cheryl was to start a fight with her to get her tossed out. The redhead wasn't sure about how to pick one without throwing the first punch. She started needling the woman about coming on to a man that obviously had no interest in such an ugly woman as her. The blonde lashed out at her several times but Cheryl deflected them. She then ducked the next punch and slammed her fist into the other woman's face. She staggered but then charged after the redhead who slipped out of the way at the last second. When she twisted around and attempted to lash out, Cheryl kneed her, pulled her up, and punched her again. The redhead was preparing for the blonde to come after her again but Cheryl was being dragged by her collar towards the door and unceremoniously dumped on the sidewalk._

_She was so pissed at Pierce that she vowed never to set foot in "The Zone" again. She'd strangle him if she ever saw him again. No, she'd pay someone to egg his house because she wasn't going to dirty her hands with him again. Better yet, she'd pay someone to start a fight with **him**. By the time she righted herself, the blonde that she had picked the fight with was deposited beside her. Cheryl held a hand out to her but she pulled herself up. "I'm sorry. Look, this guy—" she started, holding out her hands apologetically, but was interrupted by a fist to her mouth. The other woman took on a defensive stance and beckoned the redhead to her. "That's it," Cheryl spat, rubbing her face, but a dark figure stepped in between the two and grabbed her before she could rush the other woman._

_"Here." It was Pierce, holding out a bag of ice. "Let's go back in," he said, putting an arm around her and leading her into the manager's office. Her first impulse was to shrug him off but, if he came out after her with ice and was taking her back in, she might as well hear what he had to say. Settling her into the chair, he handed her a glass of water. "Where'd you learn to fight like that?"_

_"My uncle's a former FBI agent. He thought I needed to learn how to fight when he found out I wanted to go to a large university. It's not exactly the most exciting present to get on your sixteenth birthday."_

_Pierce nodded approvingly. "Well, I said I'd tell you why afterward. You interested in a job doing security for us?" She stared at him at a loss for words. "You'll be like our negotiator and can calm those hysterical women and you can even leave the bigger guys up to Mike and Eric."_

_"Why did you think I-I could do that?"_

_"Just some of the things you said. I wanted to see how you handled yourself and then offer the job."_

_She wanted to say 'yes' just to see him again, but she knew nothing about being a bouncer or running security. "I—I don't know," she replied, her thoughts about wanting to kill him immediately dissipating as he melted her with his blue eyes._

_"Tell you what. I'll give you a few days to think about it and then I'll give you a call."_

_"But you don't know my number." He gave her a crooked grin. "Oh, you want me to give it to you," she said shyly and reached for a pen._

_"I give you a free drink and can't get your number. But I get you punched in the face and you give it to me. Sorry about that, by the way. The punch, I mean, not about getting your number." She smiled at him and then slightly winced. "Let me see if I can find you some aspirin."_

"Did you take the job?" Nidia gushed.

"Yeah and it was the most miserable I had ever been for the first month or so until I got the hang of it," she said with a nod, remembering the vehement argument between Pierce, the manager, and Darkeyah, the owner, about her being hired.

"But you got a husband out of it."

"Yeah," she sighed with a weak smile, "yeah, I did."

* * *

Several weeks had passed and now Cherry Leigh was forced to team with Gail Kim against Nidia and Victoria while she and Gail had their own personal battles. It was all part of the struggle to remain good but flirt with the dark side. Orton was taking an interest in Cherry Leigh and Triple H was giving warning signs. This part of the storyline led to her seeing Batista at least twice a week. 

Dave found a way to tease her almost every time. He would ask how her dinner went or if she ran into any construction or was pulled over on her way to the arena. The first couple of times, she flushed pink from the roots of her hair down to her toes but then she got in on the ruse, asking around about his initiation. The best she had come up with was the one he had inadvertently put himself into. "Dave, how many push-ups did you get in today?" or "You talk to D'Von lately?" She loved to hear his laugh and found as many ways as possible to give him reason to do so.

Most of the superstars were booked on the same flights from the house shows to the next cities for RAW. Tickets were handed out and the wrestlers rearranged themselves however they chose. Cheryl found herself shuffled around to a window with Nidia, who particularly didn't care for flying and definitely couldn't stand to "see" their altitude. She excused herself to the bathroom and Cheryl pulled out a book to bide her time, knowing her neighbor would want a nap.

As she settled into her book, a hand whipped it from her and shut it with a malicious laugh. "Dave," she said without looking up, "what do I have to do to get it back?"

He dropped in the seat beside her. "How'd you know it was me?"

"How many other cruel people do you know would do that and not hold the page?" she said, pulling off the reading glasses. Dave was disappointed when she took them off, thinking her quite sexy with the silver frames on.

"You've got a point."

"Oh, I've got a joke for you. I forgot to tell you Friday," Cheryl excitedly said.

"Okay. This donkey and camel are crossing the desert and then come upon this oasis. The camel quickly drinks up the water and the donkey asks why he drank up all the water. The camel replies, 'Shut up, jackass, I know what I'm doing.' Well, they keep walking across the desert and come to another oasis. Same thing happens. Donkey protests and the camel says, 'Shut up, jackass, I know what I'm doing.' Alright, so, they keep on going and they end up at a third oasis. Camel drinks all the water, donkey asks what's going on, and camel says, 'Shut up, jack—"

"—ass, I know what I'm doing," Dave said with her. "Tell me there's a point to this."

"There is, I promise." He folded his arms, her book still in his hand, and waited for her to finish. "Okay, donkey and camel, traveling across the desert, come to the third oasis and—"

"You said 'third' already," Dave interrupted.

Cheryl looked up at him smugly and replied, "Shut up, jackass, I know what I'm doing." Dave snorted and shook his head. "What's wrong, jackass?"

Finally, he couldn't contain himself and started laughing out loud. She had to join the infectious laughter and half the people around them started staring at them. "I've got to tell someone else that joke," he said, handing the book back to her. "By the way, you were on page 121." She smiled and took the paperback from him. That's when he finally saw the engraved gold band, clear as day. They had had little reason to see each other outside of the arenas and Cheryl didn't wear her ring once dressed out since she couldn't wear any while she wrestled. His stomach dropped to his feet and he slipped out of the seat as Nidia slid in around him.

Dave flopped down in his seat beside by Randy and stared at the back of the chair in front of him. "What's your problem?" Orton asked.

"Nothing. Just thinking about work too much," he replied, not about to tell his friend that he had flirted ridiculously with a married woman. He had thought about officially asking Cheryl out but he was afraid of being turned down. She had quickly sidled away from him when Hunter dropped her on him and she had chosen not to sit with him the evening he had been fascinated with her choker. She had also turned down drinks twice. So he didn't ask. The problem now was that he couldn't understand his reaction to learning that she was married. If he hadn't even bothered to ask her out, he wondered why he was so upset that she wasn't available. "Maybe we should hit the town after we land. You cool with that?"

"You know I always am," Randy replied with a grin.

"What was that all about?" Nidia asked Cheryl when she was situated in the seat.

"Nothing. We were just joking around."

"You two are cute together," the brunette sweetly noted. "Y'all should go out sometime."

"Me and Dave? Nah, there's nothing between us."

"Could've fooled me, chica," Nidia replied, fluffing her travel pillow.

"Then I guess we did," Cheryl replied, opening her book to signal that the conversation had come to an end. _Is there something between us? _she thought. In her opinion, he was extremely attractive and could give her goosebumps. But that problem had been solved when she decided every woman had to feel that way in his presence. Yet, she wouldn't lie to herself that she liked being around him. In the two years she had been widowed, she had been out on a few dates, all miserable failures. Why add another one to the list?

_"Why?" _a voice inside her asked._ "Why? Because you know you like him."_

She made a sound of disgust at herself and absentmindedly fiddled with the sole ring on her hand. The band, engraved with tiny flowers, was a gift from her mother upon her high school graduation. She couldn't wear it on her right hand anymore because of a softball injury to her ring finger. Now that she no longer wore her wedding band, she found the occasion to wear the expensive gift.

TBC…


	4. Kiss and Tell

**_Chapter IV: Kiss and Tell_**

Summerslam was upon the wrestlers and staff of WWE and Cheryl was working her first inter-brand event. Actually, "working" was a loose term. She and the other women had to lose to the diva contestants in dodgeball, something that everyone knew wouldn't happen in real life. Her pride was taking a huge dent that night but it didn't stop her from approaching Molly Holly. Unfortunately, Stacy Keibler and Molly were sitting together and casually chatting. Trying to steel her jittery nerves, Cheryl approached the woman that she gave most of the credit for wanting to be a wrestler.

"Molly, hi, uh, I'm sorry to interrupt. I'm Cheryl Ellis…Cherry Leigh…" she began. The auburn-haired woman stoically shook her outstretched hand. "I just…wanted to introduce myself. I, um, don't want to sound like…like a fan but I am."

"Thanks, I appreciate it," she replied nonchalantly and turned back to her conversation with Stacy. The blonde gave her a smug smile and Cheryl backtracked, bumping into another SmackDown! diva.

"Hi, I'm Dawn Marie. I know who you are but I don't think we've met."

"N-no we haven't," Cheryl replied through her dry mouth, holding out her hand.

"You okay? Do want this extra bottle of water?" The redhead gratefully took it and gulped down the cool liquid. Laughter rang out from the couple behind them and Cheryl and Dawn Marie turned to see Molly and Stacy quickly jerk their gaze from the newest diva and giggled. "Don't worry about them. They're thick as thieves when they're together…and not much better than thieves when you think about."

"I-I have to go. Thanks," Cheryl said, holding up the bottle. "Nice to meet you."

"You too," the brunette melodically called back.

* * *

Cheryl deemed it time to give Stacy a dose of her own medicine, especially after the woman had blown her off theevening before. Earlier in the night, when Triple H confronted Randy Orton about giving him the title back, the champion attacked Hunter with only Flair to defend him. She rushed to his aid, pulling a few moves on Orton and attacking him with a chair, giving Batista enough time to make it to the ring after his singles match and run Randy off. A little overkill on her characterfor a woman, she thought, but at least it was better than running around in a bikini. 

Returning from backstage, she flexed her hands from gripping the chair so hard and began her devious plans for a slight bit of revenge. By complete accident, Cheryl learned that the label on Stacy's brand of hairspray carefully peeled off. After quite some time in the toiletry aisle, the diva had the tools for payback. As the show started, Stacy's aerosol hairspray mysteriously disappeared and another can replaced it. With less than an hour to go in the night, the bimbo flounced into the room and announced that she was going to the ring to eliminate one of the diva contestants. She ran a brush through her hair, picked at some flyaways, and then pulled out the can that she thought was hairspray. Out came white deodorant all over the blonde's hair. The look of shock on the woman's face made Cheryl's year.

The entire lockerroom was waiting for the trademark hissy fit to start but the last of the diva wannabes popped into the room, interrupting their pleasure. They all crowded around her, cooing over the accident. Deciding to "help," Cheryl made her way through the girls and pushed a bottle of shampoo into Stacy's hand. "You better hurry, you've got less than ten minutes. I'll toss that bad bottle of hairspray and see if I can get you some more." The ice daggers coming from the blonde's eyes should have pierced Cheryl to the wall. Unfortunately, looks couldn't kill. The redhead strutted away, tossing the offending can of spray deodorant between her hands.

Cheryl had to make herself nonexistent until the end of the show. Lita promised to call her on her cellphone if anyone was looking for her. So, the redhead packed up her bag and began looking for a place to disappear. Her answer came when she ran across Batista. Stacy wouldn't dare say a word to her with him around. "Dave," she called out and hurried over to him.

The wrestler inwardly groaned when she called his name. He wanted to avoid her until he could get a handle on what he was feeling. "Yeah," he said, stopping to wait on her.

"I'm kind of hiding from someone. Can I hang out with you 'til the end of the show?"

He glanced at his watch. Twenty minutes. He could do it. "Yeah. You just want to hang out here?" he said, waving his hand around the hall. She shrugged her shoulders and plopped her bags on a box, along with herself.

"So, who are you hiding from?" he asked, trying to find safe conversation.

"Promise not to tell," Cheryl said with raised eyebrows.

"I swear."

"Okay," she replied and started with the tale of the orange lipstick.

Dave had sworn off flirting with her but found himself laughing at her story, enraptured by that damn pendant that dangled in the hollow of her throat. He was mesmerized by its movement and wanted nothing more than to rip it off and kiss her there. She sharply said something to him and his eyes snapped up. "Huh?"

"It's time to go," she said, nodding towards the people filing out.

"Uh, yeah. See you next week," he said and abruptly stalked off.

"I wonder what I said," she murmured but the wonder didn't stop there. Dave was nowhere to be found except during any vignettes she filmed with Evolution for the next couple of weeks. Then he barely said another word to her. She hid her disappointment and tried to push him from her mind.

During that time, Cheryl's character drifted into the background and she handled her matches expertly while dodging a surly Stacy Kiebler. She could only hope that their "problem" endedwiththe deodorantbut something told her otherwise. In the mean time, she would act as if nothing ever happened while she watched her back.

* * *

The pizza had arrived and the girls broke out the beers. A toast was made to the goddess of grease and sighs of culinary pleasure then began to sound around the table. "We sound like we're in heat," Nidia mumbled around her slice of pepperoni. 

"I don't know about you all, but I'm getting me some tonight when we get done," Lita said with a smirk.

"Why are you even here now?" Victoria asked with a laugh.

"Because, I have to have my junk food fix for the week. Besides, Matt's downstairs hanging out with everybody he hasn't talked to since his surgery."

"Alan better be waiting for me naked when I get home," Victoria stated matter-of-factly.

"Amen, sister!" Nidia chimed in and high-fived Victoria.

Cheryl good-naturedly laughed but couldn't help but be jealous of them. They all had someone and all she had was a few measly dates and the memories of Pierce. The women noticed her slight discomfort and they all muttered apologies.

"It's no problem, guys. Don't let me put a damper on your fun," she said, waving them off with a flick of her wrist.

"You know what can fix that?" Nidia asked in a sing-song voice.

"I disappear with my new mystery novel?"

"No, you start dating again," she replied, nudging Cheryl's arm.

"It's not like there's a ton of eligible bachelors lining up for me," the redhead muttered.

"What's the deal with you and Dave Batista?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"I don't care what you said to me on the plane that day, you two looked a little cozier than just friends," Nidia stated and crossed her arms on her chest.

"It doesn't matter now. We haven't talked in weeks beyond business," Cheryl said, hoping to mask the disappointment she still felt.

"Oh, there's Edge," Victoria threw out. "I saw the two of you talking last night before the pay-per-view started."

"Yeah, you and Edge could go out," Nidia chimed in. "You two would be so cute together."

"Me date _Edge_?" Cheryl squeaked.

"It's just Edge. He's a real person too," Lita added.

_It's just Edge, _she wanted to mock. "But he's married."

"Try 'divorced in January,'" Lita said with a knowing look and bit into her pizza.

"That's it. We're setting the two of you up. It's time he started dating again and you, well, you should have a long time ago. It's not healthy for you to grieve this long," Victoria firmly announced.

Cheryl swallowed the pepperoni and adamantly replied, "I'm not grieving. I just haven't wanted to go out with anybody. Besides, why would he want to go out with me?"

"But you'd go out with him if he asked?" Nidia asked, squinting her eyes while the hamster's legs began to cramp from running so quickly in her mind.

"I…no…maybe…"

"Great!" she squealed. "Because, chica, he said he'd go out with you. He's gonna call you and ask!"

"Did you set me up?" Cheryl demanded. All three of them looked away, the guilty dog look on their faces. "I don't believe it," she said, stalking over to the bed and throwing a pillow at them. Victoria grabbed it and hurled it back. Within seconds, the four of them were pummeling each other with every pillow they could find.

Cheryl flopped back on the bed, exhausted. She wondered what it was that they could have said to get Edge to go out with her. The two had hardly spoken more than a few words to each other and Unforgiven was the first time they said more than two phrases to each other. Actually, it was quite a few as they complained to each other about not being on the pay-per-view card. The girls had taken a huge risk by asking him and somehow it didn't seem right to turn him down. In all reality, she didn't have a good reason to do so and she didn't think the reluctance was because of Pierce, even though her mind drifted off into what had prompted their first date.

_It was the morning after the unknowing interview for the "security" team for "The Zone." She rose and checked her face in the mirror from the fight. Her lip was split was night before and that morning it was crusted with dried blood and the surrounding area beginning to show bruising. She did what she always did with such minor injuries after a ball game, suck it up and go on her merry little way. Dressing in her rattiest jeans and a practice jersey that had definitely seen better days, she declared it a 'cleaning day' and started with the garage to begin packing up what was left of her grandparents' things not given away in the will._

_Sometime in the late afternoon, a knock sounded at her front door. She dropped the dishtowel in the sink from washing lunch's dishes and headed to answer the doorbell that had just sounded. She pulled the door open to find Pierce Ellis, immaculately dressed in jeans and a blue polo shirt. It was at that moment that she realized how brilliantly blue his eyes were. Freaking out about being covered in sweat and dust, she stuttered through asking him what he was doing there._

_"I just wanted to check on you since it was my fault last night that woman hit you." _

_"How—how did you know where I lived?" _

_"The Internet's a beautiful thing, sweetheart. I hunted it down through your phone number." _

_"Oh…" she trailed off and began straightening the jersey and brushing her hair back. _

_Pierce tried not to laugh at her worrying about her appearance. He wished he could be a fly on the wall when she went back in and found the streaks of dirt on one cheek and on her forehead. He barely knew her but he already knew she worried way too much. "So, you finally getting moved in? You want me to show you around the island?" _

_She laughed to herself. "Well, that would be nice but I grew up on this island during the winters. You been here all your life too?" _

_He smiled and shook his head in embarrassment. "Yeah, summers for me. I own an apartment right down the road." She leaned across the porch railing to see the complex he was pointing at. "I'm surprised we haven't met before," he said with a dashing grin. _

_"Really? If you've lived here that long, you'd know you barely know your neighbors with the way people come and go." _

_"Alright, so I'm just trying to make small talk," Pierce replied with a shrug. _

_"Hmm…" Cheryl nodded like she sympathized with him. _

_"Wanna have dinner together to make more small talk?" _

_She didn't have to think about it and nodded. The rest was history as the two had been inseparable every day possible from there on out. _

* * *

Cheryl had been home two days, aimlessly wandering around. She had escaped going out with friends and from seeing anyone from "The Zone." Pierce had been on her mind too much lately and the nightclub was the worst place to be to try to put him from her mind. Her parents had accosted her for a dinner every other week that she had been home. This week, however, they were with Craig in Maine, being introduced to his new girlfriend that he was positive was _the _onefor him. This girl would be the fourth one in four years that he was sure was _the_ oneWhen he finally proposed, then she'd make the trip to meet her. 

Tossing the remote control aside, Cheryl checked her home phone and her cell phone to see if they were still working since no one had called her, _not just Edge, _she added to herself. Deciding a nap on her balcony listening to the waves roll in would be a better way to waste her time than piddling around, she picked up the cordless phone, almost dropping it as it rang.

"H-hello?"

"Cheryl?" a male voice asked.

"This is she."

"This is Edge…" They digressed into niceties about their time home but then he asked, "When are you getting in to Toronto?"

"I'm actually flying in tomorrow afternoon. It's a cheaper flight than Friday for some reason."

"You want to go out for dinner Thursday night?"

"Yeah, sure." From there, they worked out the logistics of the date and ended the call.

Positive that there would be nothing between them, Cheryl wore a simple gray, ribbed turtleneck and a matching skirt that fell to her knees, along with her hair in a French twist. It was nice but not provocative. The phone rang as she reminded herself to calm down and not pick at her nails. It was Edge to let her know he was in the lobby.

She picked up her key and purse as the door jerked open to reveal Nidia. "Guess who's in the lobby looking all hot?" she announced, dropping her luggage, and then looked Cheryl over. "Oh, wait. I bet you know." A brilliant smile spread out over her face. "I'll be waiting up and you _have _to tell all."

"Good night, Nidia," Cheryl said with a shake of her head, slipping past the grinning woman.

True to her word, the kinky haired girl was waiting up, flipping angrily through the television channels. She bounded up from the bed when she saw Cheryl. "Tell me, tell me!"

"I don't kiss and tell."

"So you _did _kiss?" she asked, looking like a puppy with a toy being dangled in front of her.

She wished she could have hid the blush that revealed her answer. Nidia was right about Edge looking pretty good. His long blonde hair was down and dry, the soft waves screaming, "I have better hair than you." He was dressed in khakis and a dark green button-up with a brown leather jacket over it. Still, he didn't exactly make her stomach flip like Batista did every time she saw him, throwing a kink into her theory about her attraction to Dave.

The date seemed to be a typical one. Both were obviously nervous when Edge picked her up but, once they started to get to know each other, the tension dissipated. They ended up at a movie with a side order of ice cream afterward.

"How was it? I bet he's a great kisser," Nidia continued to prod.

"Alright, alright," Cheryl said, throwing her hands up and began to relate the tale-end of the date.

Edge had walked her to her hotel door. "I had a good time," she truthfully said.

"Yeah, me too. We've got an early house show Saturday. You want to go out Saturday night?"

Looking up at his expectant face, she couldn't say 'no.' "Sure."

He smiled and released the breath he was holding. "Okay, I'll call ya. See ya tomorrow." Edge took a nervous step back and slightly waved. "I…" he started but then crossed the distance between them and caught her in a soft kiss.

"See ya tomorrow," she whispered and slipped in the door to find Nidia waiting. "So there you have it."

"Well?" the brunette asked expectantly.

"Well what?"

"You've told me what happened but you haven't told me what you think?" she asked, that excited puppydog look still on her face.

Cheryl shrugged her shoulders. "It was nice. I had a good time but…I didn't feel anything."

"Nothing?" the other diva asked, wrinkling her forehead.

"It was nice, kiss included," she meekly replied. "Maybe it'll be different when we go out next week."

* * *

"Well, was it different?" Nidia enthusiastically asked, bouncing around on the bed to watch Cheryl. 

The redhead sighed in exasperation as she pulled off her heels from her second date with Edge. "Is Eric not giving you any? Is that why you've got to dig into my romantic life?" she teased.

"C'mon," Nidia whined. "Was it different?"

Cheryl sat down on the bed and pulled the clasp holding the crown of her hair back. "No," she answered quietly. "I had a good time but there's just not anything there."

"Look at him! How can you not feel anything?" she asked, gesturing with both hands at the door.

"I just don't. I like him like a friend and that's about as far as it's going."

"Do you think he feels differently?"

"I don't know," the redhead shrugged and peeled out of her hose. "We kinda held hands and the kiss was just a quick one."

"Maybe you just need some more time together. Victoria thinks it's because you can't imagine being with another guy in that way since you, well, you know—"

"You've been talking about me to the other girls?" Cheryl asked, whirling around from where she had been standing and putting away her jewelry.

"They made me," Nidia apologized.

"S'okay. They'd beat it out of me eventually. You can tell Victoria that I've got another date with Edge next week. I was gonna make up some sad excuse and cancel but I'll go again…just for y'all."

The brunette squealed with glee and hugged Cheryl to her. "I hope you dream of _good _things tonight," she whispered and climbed into bed while her roommate disappeared into the bathroom to get ready to turn in.

She didn't dream of anything that Sunday night but she felt like she was walking in a nightmare during the preparations for RAW. It had been four weeks since her payback on Stacy and she was starting to stop looking over her shoulder every five seconds, expecting the blonde to take revenge. Luck had it another way.

"Is Edge the first guy on the ladder for you to sleep with? Because if he is, I can't wait until you find out he's a dead end," Kiebler sneered. After that, Cheryl had a weird feeling something was about to go down when the ditz and her entourage disappeared, mysterious smiles plastered on their faces. Christy and Carmella may have acted like they were enemies on television, but they had formed a tight-knit group with the former cheerleader.

The confrontation was the beginning as she noticed several of the women on staff glaring at her as she passed by. "What did I do?" Cheryl whispered to Lita as she settled in the ladies' lockerroom again. "It's like there's a hit out on me."

"Who said something?" Lita quietly asked.

"Nobody said anything. I was just getting a lot of looks and it wasn't because of my body."

"Who was it?"

"I don't know their names…the blonde-headed guy that we think may be gay…the redhead that we're jealous of her hair…um, that really cute girl with the dimples that does the sound…"

"Well, you see," Lita began, "there sorta is a hit out on ya." Cheryl's jaw dropped open. "I never said anything 'cause I know you now. Some of the staff thinks you're stuck up. You hardly talk to them, you keep to yourself, you're always reading… Anyway, they didn't particularly like you in the first place but now that you're dating one of the most eligible bachelors in the business, well…you get the picture."

"How do they know I, uh, I went out with Edge?"

Lita slightly pursed her lips and shrugged. "Maybe Stacy said something but it's probably because they're the ones most interested."

"Most interested?" Cheryl asked for clarification.

"You know," the other redhead replied suggestively.

"Oh…what am I supposed to do?" she asked, wringing her hands.

"Barring breaking up with Edge, I don't know. Just go out of your way to talk to them and don't let this problem with Edge bother you," the senior diva explained.

Cheryl nodded, thinking about what Lita had said. She was intimidated by a lot of people when she had to be herself. One would have thought that five years working in a nightclub would have helped but she spent most of that time standing in a corner glowering at people or getting to throw them out of the establishment.

TBC…

_revised 5/12/05_


	5. Startling Revelations

**_Chapter V: Startling Revelations_**

"Check out the pictures of your '_sister'_," Orton teased, tossing the magazine to Helmsley.

Hunter caught it with a laugh and tossed it back to Randy. "I've seen them but don't tell Steph. She's freaking out about this storyline. Forget the fact that I let her slobber all over Chris, Kurt, _and_ Eric. But I'm put in a storyline where I have to treat this woman as a sister and she watches me like a hawk. She even gave me strict instructions not to stick around after we filmed her and Stacy's vignette earlier today."

"Randy, let me see what's got the boss so worried," Batista said, rising from his seat and taking the glossy magazine. He flipped through it until he found Cheryl's visage plastered on two pages with a tiny article about her. Dressed in a red bikini, she was leaning up against the most expensive Harley he had ever seen. In another shot, her seductive face stared back at him with her breasts centering the photo, hanging over the handle bars.

The third picture had her straddling the motorcycle in a white, gauzy robe. She was leaning forward in the seat, one arm across her hip, hiding any hint of panties, and the handlebars positioned just so it looked like she had nothing on at all besides the translucent material. There was smatterings of freckles in places he didn't think women had them. _Oh, my god, _he thought, amazed that this woman could turn him on so much. "I just realized I left my elbow brace in the car," Dave said, abruptly standing and striding to the door. He stopped with his fingers on the handle, strode back, and dropped the magazine in Randy's lap.

When Dave was gone, Hunter laughed and asked, "Do you think he realizes his brace is already on his elbow?"

Randy grinned. "The question is: Do you think he knows that _we_ noticed he already has it on?" They both snorted and returned back to suiting up.

Batista stormed through the parking lot and pounded his fist against the concrete wall. He had thought that if he avoided her, this feeling that was creeping up on him would go away. Instead, it had gotten worse. He wanted something he couldn't have and she was all he could think about. With one more punch to the wall that grazed the skin off his knuckles, he stalked back to the lockerroom, wondering why he bothered to torture himself by looking at the magazine in the first place.

Randy held up the full page picture of Cheryl as Dave entered the room. "What's so threatening about this?" he asked, glancing at the magazine and back up at dark-haired wrestler.

"Promise this won't go beyond us," Dave said with a sigh. Hunter and Randy pulled their chairs up as if they were about to hear some juicy gossip. "Guys?" he whined.

"Fine, we promise," Randy said and Hunter rolled his hands, indicating Dave should continue.

"God, I feel like a high schooler. I've got a major crush on Cheryl Ellis and I can't have her."

"Why not?" Randy asked.

"Duh, she's married."

"Oh, really?" Hunter stated, disbelievingly. "Then mind telling me why she's dating Edge?"

"She's dating Edge!" Dave exclaimed, his eyes widening.

"Where have you been, dude? Under a rock?" Randy sarcastically asked.

"I, uh, guess running from Cheryl," he replied, still in astonishment.

"Who told you she was married?" Triple H asked.

"She wears a wedding band," Batista quickly answered with a tone that accused Hunter of not already knowing.

"She may wear _a _ring but somebody told me she's widowed," Orton explained. "You might want to turn on the charm, Dave, and root Edge out."

"I need some air."

"It's gonna have to be in the ring because we've got to be out there in five minutes, loverboy," his "boss" warned.

The first of the vignettes Hunter was referring to earlier aired directly after Evolution's promo. Batista made a point to see it.

Even in real life, the lockerroom had its factions. The Monday night junkfood foursome, along with Trish, were on one side while Stacy and the 'idiot' twins were on the dark side. The rest just didn't give a rip and stayed out of the way. The rumor among the foursome—Trish was accidentally, maybe conveniently forgotten—was that Pritchard was actually on the side of treating the divas like human beings, giving them the respect they deserved, but that, with his resignation, the horny side of the creative team came into power once again. The diva winner was given a push, along with Carmella also being hired. Stacy was now winning against seasoned wrestlers and the gimmick matches were beginning to flourish again. The leggy blonde had beaten all the 'heel' divas except Trish, who was scheduled to lose her belt to Lita in the next couple of months, possibly as an apology for Lita not being able to wrestle so long. The only woman left was Cheryl, the dancer on the edge of good and evil. Now she was being subjected to her first real dose of T & A on-screen.

The two were to feud for a short time, Stacy looking bad at the beginning but then triumphing over Cheryl. The redhead hoped it wasn't the end of her career by losing to an airhead. Creative assured her it was one more step to her turning heel, which they promised was a long way off.

Cherry Leigh had approached Stacy in the ring at the beginning of the program, provoking her into a challenge, much like what had happened to bring about the dance-off between Stacy and Molly Holly. The blonde agreed to the challenge, allowing Cherry Leigh to choose because she was arrogant enough to think she could beat her at anything. It was a drink-off. "I hope you've gained somewhat of a taste for beer since Stone Cold stunned you," Cheryl laughed as she stalked off, shouting directions for the ring-side staff to find them alcohol.

Throughout the two hours, the camera "cut" back to what they had filmed earlier. Triple H warned Cherry Leigh about doing something stupid but she ignored him and positioned herself across from Stacy at a table in catering, each faking what they could of downing cans of beer. Cheryl's character held her alcohol while Stacy's got progressively drunk, spilling the liquid all over her. The climax was the blonde diva getting angry, pouring beer over Cheryl's breasts and starting a fight. The on-screen feud had begun and the backstage feud didn't look much better.

* * *

"Can you believe this weather?" Cheryl asked as she and Edge dashed for the rental car in the torrential rain. Her companion made a reply but it was lost in the wind. 

"To think it didn't start until after we landed. Is your house gonna make it through this?" the blonde asked, taking her umbrella and placing it in the backseat and then shaking water from his coat.

"My dad helped me put up the storm windows and doors before I left. Besides, it survived three hurricanes this summer and countless ones before that."

Edge nodded his head in understanding and squeezed her knee before cranking the car. He carefully maneuvered the vehicle out of the parking lot and onto the highway. "Do you think we should pull over and wait for this to let up?" Cheryl asked.

"I think I heard that once it starts, it's set in for the evening. We could be waiting all night."

"Yeah, I guess," she replied, peering through the windshield to see how bad traffic was. The car in front of them slammed on its brakes and Edge swerved to miss the vehicle, sending them into a hydroplane. Their car fishtailed and then spun off the road, coming to a stop as Cheryl's window and the windshield shattered. She threw her hands up to shield herself but it was too late as the shards of glass pelted her. Catching her breath, she carefully turned to Edge who was jerking at his seatbelt.

"You okay?" they both said to each other at the same time. Cheryl nodded and fumbled for her seat belt. "Cheryl," Edge anxiously said her name. "Your face is cut." She reached up a hand felt blood on her forehead.

"I'll be fine. Let's check on everyone else." He wasn't thrilled about letting her out of the car but they edged out of the broken glass, eyeing the roadsign that had glanced off the windshield and the tree trunk they were only inches away from hitting. Two other cars were involved but no one was hurt. Cheryl rubbed at one of her eyes while a woman, a nurse who had pulled over to help, tried to clean her face from the cuts that were slightly bleeding while another man held an umbrella over them in the pouring rain.

"Don't rub your eye. You might have something in it. From the way your face is cut up, there might be glass in it," the woman ordered.

"Oh," she mumbled, shoving her hands in her pockets to keep from picking at the itching eye. The fire department and state patrol arrived shortly thereafter and began an assessment, particularly one regarding the calling of an ambulance. One of the firefighters glanced her over and took out his radio to alert the hospital. "I'm fine," she protested.

"Ma'am, you may need stitches."

"I'm not going to the hospital," she said with a shudder, recalling the last time she was there over two years ago.

_The phone rang four times before the answering machine picked up. Between her sinus medication and the time of night, Cheryl barely recognized the rings. When it became incessant and matched the pounding in her head, she sled out of her cocoon of blankets and cradled the phone to her ear._

_"Cheryl?" the voice asked._

_"It's either me or Pierce and, the last time I checked, he was a guy," she snapped, except it came out sounding more like a bunch of guttural noises and sniffles from the sinusitis. Because of her massive head cold, Pierce was working her shift, bartender turned bouncer, even though he had the night off._

_"Cheryl, it's Eric. Now's not the time to joke. You've got to get down here."_

_"Eric, what's wrong with Pierce?" Cheryl asked, already climbing out of the bed, calculating the few minutes it would take to getthere if she took his motorcycle._

_"Just get down here."_

_"Tell me now!" she shouted._

_"He's been shot," Eric gluped._

_"Oh god," she muttered and slammed the phone down without saying 'bye.'_

_By the time it had taken Eric to call her, the ambulance had arrived. By the time Cheryl arrived, the paramedics were starting to load Pierce into the vehicle. With her heart pounding in her ears, she shoved her way through the crowd to be stopped by Mike. "I'll take you to the hospital." She didn't hear him as she strained around him to see. "Come on, Cherry," he softly said, intentionally using the name as an endearment. Only Mike had been gifted with the ability to use the ring name as an endearment since it had been what he called her all along and then suggested she use it for wrestling._

_Cheryl kicked him hard in the shin and nailed his instep. Rushing around him, she saw what he was trying to shield her from. Blood was everywhere on the pavement. It looked like someone had ripped opened Red Cross collection bags. A white sheet with patches of red was drawn over a body and Cheryl started to sway, imagining Pierce underneath the white shroud. She turned away and caught sight of the ambulance and the paramedics easing a stretcher inside. She then saw Pierce's pale face and stumbled her way over, shouting at them. "That's my husband!"_

_"Ma'am, we don't have time. You need to have someone drive you to the hospital," the paramedic firmly ordered._

_"Is he gonna be alright?" she gasped out around her stopped-up nose, her eyes never leaving Pierce's face._

_"Ma'am, you need…"_

_Cheryl never heard the rest of the sentence as her husband's eyes fluttered open and he whispered her name. "It's gonna be alright, baby. It's gonna be alright," she cooed._

_"Cheryl…"_

_"Don't talk. There's plenty of time for talking later," she comforted, reaching for his hand._

_"I love you…You have… to keep…on living," he said, struggling to speak_

_"Pierce, don't say that."_

_"Know…I love you."_

_Strong arms gripped her shoulders and started pulling her back. "I love you," she shouted as he disappeared from her sight into the ambulance. The large hands turned her around and she was staring into Mike's blue eyes._

_"I'll take you to the hospital." Cheryl could only nod and they jogged to his car._

_The pounding in her forehead and nose was killing her and she could barely focus her eyes. Yet, somehow she was aware of every red light that stopped them. If no one was around, Mike would run the light. She knew with every stop they made that fate was against them._

_Pierce was in surgery when they arrived, the ambulance having the ability to run all the lights and stop signs. She paced the waiting room, unable to cry out her fear for the stuffy nose as the sound of her flip flops flapped on her heels to beat in time with the throbbing. Mike tried to get her to sit down but it was absolutely impossible for her nervous legs. He talked while she walked. "Apparently some guy got pissed off at Pierce for throwing him out and was gonna wait until the bar closed down. I sent him home early 'cause I know how sick you are. From what I could gather, the guy jumped him, shot him, and then Pierce whipped out that snubnose that he keeps strapped to his leg and killed him before he could kill Pierce." Cheryl stopped her pacing long enough to express her surprise at her husband carrying a gun. "You didn't know?" Mike asked and she shook her head before resuming wearing a track in the floor._

_Finally, a nurse came for her but stopped Mike. Cheryl immediately lied, telling the woman that he was Pierce's brother. They were shown into a counseling room and the redhead huddled on one side of the couch, suddenly aware that she was still in her pajamas. Her world fell out from underneath her when the surgeon walked into the room. He didn't have to say a word. Mike was grateful that she was still sitting on the sofa when the doctor finally vocalized that Pierce had lost too much blood already and they couldn't stop the bleeding, even when the bullets had been removed. The bouncer gathered the distressed woman into her arms and held her there while the head cold snorts of sobs seeped out of her._

"I'll take you. You won't have to ride in the ambulance," the Good Samaritan nurse piped.

"It-it's not that…"

"Ms. Ellis," the woman, whose name she vaguely recalled as Patricia, sternly said, "You have to go. There's no question. I can take you or let one of these firefighters haul off."

_I could probably take on any one of them and win, _Cheryl thought but resigned herself to going with the woman when her eye slightly twinged again. She had to force Edge to stay and take care of the business involved with the wreck while Patricia carted her off.

The woman stayed with her the entire time, even going as far as to distract her while her various cuts were stinging from antiseptic. "That your boyfriend? He's mighty good-looking."

"No," she hissed when the medical assistant dabbed more antiseptic on her face.

"He looks like the wrestler-type."

Cheryl laughed and Patricia smiled, hoping she had helped in some way. "I guess you don't watch wrestling because he is."

"Really? Well, if he offers, I wouldn't pass him up if I were you."

"I'll remember that," she replied through clenched teeth when the assistant began swabbing out the gash on her forehead.

When she was finally back at the hotel, Cheryl was grateful to have Nidia stave off Edge while she slept off the painkillers and her eyes being dilated.

Cheryl only wished she had the brunette to fend off everyone else at RAW that caught sight of her and had to ask what happened. The one person she didn't want to see was now coming at her full throttle and she had no choice.

Vince McMahon stopped in front of her and tilted her head from side to side. He lifted her sunglasses and she closed the scratched eye. He turned to the man beside him and said, "Think you can do something with this?"

"There isn't much left to do," the other man replied.

"We're moving part of your storyline up. Instead of Randy supposedly attacking you in three weeks, we're doing it tonight. Go with Nick and he'll do your make-up and then we'll film." Trish Stratus was to attack Cherry Leigh and set Orton up to take the blame, thus heightening Orton's and Triple H's feud. Then the truth would come out and set up a feud between Trish and the newer wrestler, all supposedly after Stacy was done with her. However, it now seemed the storylines were going to be interwoven. _I'm fine, Mr. McMahon, terribly sore, but no problem, thanks for asking, _she sarcastically thought as he walked away.

Nick said nothing as they headed down the hall to his workstation but he expressed a grunt of disapproval when Dave Batista sighted them. Now knowing the truth about her marital status, Dave just couldn't ignore her, especially after hearing about the minor wreck. "Nick, you did a good job."

Cheryl shook her head and Dave reached for the sunglasses. "I have to have those," she said and quickly slipped them back on. "Glass scratched my eye and I have to wear these for a week to help it heal."

"So, he's not put any make-up on you yet?"

"No, we hit a sign and, between that and a tree branch, the windshield didn't stand a chance and shattered all over me." Dave looked her up and down to assess any more damage and touched her shoulder right below the beginnings of an angry bruise that she had tried to cover with make-up. "I'm alright, really. I'm a little banged up where the seatbelt held me in."

"Edge was driving, right?" Dave asked, twisting pages from the RAW magazine in his hands.

"Yeah. It probably would have been worse if I had been," she answered with a small laugh. Batista's nostrils stared to flare and his brown eyes seemed to take on a hint of red. "What's that?" she asked, trying to take the edge off of what was bothering him so much.

"Nothing," he muttered, glancing down at the rolled-up pages in one fist that he had found taped up in his locker. They were from the lay-out of Cheryl in the magazine with "Cheryl and Dave sitting in a tree…" written in red and a heart drawn around her face with a sad looking stick figure that was supposed to be Batista with his tongue hanging out. As to the culprit, Orton had been conspicuously absent from the lockerroom so far.

"Dave?" she asked when his eyes focused behind her.

"I'll be back," he muttered and stalked off.

Nick wasn't joking when he said he didn't have much else to do make-up wise as he made the scratches on her face look fresh and raw. When they settled her in the broken glass of a large make-shift office window, he added fake blood. Her job was to lie there and be unconscious while Orton found her and then when Triple H found him over her body. The hardest part of it all was to keep breathing normally while Batista picked her up and rushed her out of the scene while Hunter and Randy killed each other.

That night, the ladies crowded around the hotel table again. This time, it was Mexican take-out and homemade, well, hotel-made, margaritas. There was an uncomfortable silence that Nidia finally had to break. "You've not said anything about Dave and Edge. Are you mad at him?"

"I'm not mad at Edge. It was a complete accident. The car hydro—"

"I'm talking about Batista," the brunette interrupted Cheryl.

"Why would I be mad at him?" Nidia started to open her mouth but Victoria sharply elbowed her. "What's going on?" No one said a word. "S-someone tell me now," the redhead insisted.

TBC…

**

* * *

Author's Notes: **

I had a few reviews about the Mary Sue comments I put in and just wanted to explain them. I have since taken them out because I agree with the reviews and think it takes away from the story because it really has nothing to do with it. Anyhow, the comments were tongue-in-cheek as Cheryl's wrestling character would immediately be labeled a Mary Sue by some of the more canon reviewers. The comments were also a critique of myself after I charted out the plot and realized that the label could be slapped on the wrestling character after I worked really hard on making Cheryl and the storyline as realistic as possible. I don't think any of my OCs, including Cheryl, are what has been defined as Mary Sues (although Samia Carlsen may be up for debate—that girl had a lot of fun!). However, I don't have a problem if that's what an author wants to write. If you can write it well, more power to ya! 

Thank you to all my readers and to my reviewers: Latisha C, lucyzigg, huntersgirl, Exyla4now, LeelooJinn, WandaXmaximoff, Jess420, Jen105, coors1977, J3r1ch0h0lic4eva, RKOThug21, aussiewrestlingfan, Kora Flair, kiss316, sugar-skyline, Aimz619, shannfan14, and Insane Zula.


	6. A Poetic Final Straw

For ratings, disclaimers, etc., see chapter one.

_**Chapter VI: A Poetic Final Straw**_

Because of Nidia's penchant for dramatics, Victoria related the story. Shortly before Batista was to film the vignette with Cheryl and Evolution, he had tracked down Edge, checking each of the lockerrooms until he abruptly turned around to find the wanted man staring him down.

"I hear you're looking for me. You want something?" the blonde asked with a sharpness to his voice.

"Yeah. How could you let that happen to Cheryl?"

"The car wreck? Man, that was an accident."

"You were driving, you're responsible," Batista said, backing the other man towards the wall.

"Wait, you—"

"If the weather was that bad, you could've waited to leave!" Dave yelled in his face.

"Listen—" Edge started again, holding out his hands to indicate for Batista to back off.

"No, you listen, if you hurt her again, I will hunt you down…" he trailed off, just then realizing what he was about to say.

"Is that a threat?" the blonde barked, leaning towards the other with his nostrils flaring.

"That's a promise," Batista growled, pointing his finger into Edge's bare chest and stalking off.

"He did what!" Cheryl squeaked in response to the tale. The three other women nonchalantly glanced around the dim room, avoiding Cheryl's gaze. "Why would he do that? He's been avoiding me like the plague!" Not to mention that she considered the man to be quiet, much like her, and fairly non-confrontational.

"I think someone's jealous," Nidia teased.

"Wait a minute," Cheryl matter-of-factly stated. "Aren't you the one who wanted me to go out with Edge?"

"Isn't it cool that two guys are fighting over you? If only we were all so lucky…" the brunette sighed dreamily.

"Lucky? It's not l—" The knock at the door stopped the redhead in mid-sentence.

"I'll get it," Lita, the most sensible one in the room at the moment, stated. She rose from her seat and peeked through the peephole, showing no sign of recognition of who was on the other side. Her face was straight, bearing no emotion, when she swung the door open.

Dave Batista stood on the other side, looking quite shy. "Is Cheryl here?" he whispered. Lita nodded. "Has she heard what I did?" Seeing the bob of her head, Dave dropped his own. "Is she mad? Can I talk to her?"

The woman in question had stayed glued to her seat, straining to hear the conversation when she heard the man's voice. "Cheryl, you've got a caller."

There was whispering behind her as she slowly rose, her sore muscles protesting, and met Dave's eyes while the other girls filed out into the adjoining room. "Hi," she said and then stared at the carpet.

"Can I come in? That way you don't have to wear your glasses."

"Yeah," she replied, blinking from the hallway as she looked back up at him. He slipped past her and she closed the door behind him. "So…"

"I'd _like _to say I'm sorry for threatening Edge but I can't," Dave began right away.

"Excuse me?" she sharply asked.

"I…god, there's something I have to tell you," he nervously said, running his hand through his black curls. Cheryl's legs grew weak from concern over where this was going. She reached backward until she felt the chair and eased down into it, her gaze never leaving his face. "I thought…this isn't easy," he started and sat down on the bed. "I thought you were married." He reached for her left hand and held it up. "I didn't ask but I guess I was just an ass and assumed you were taken. I felt bad for flirting with a married woman and I thought I could get you out of my mind if I didn't see you that often." His fingers ran through the dark locks again and he sighed. "But it didn't work. When I found out you were dating Edge, I didn't know how to deal with it. It was even worse when I found out he was driving when you were in that accident. I was so mad at him for letting you get hurt because…because I really…like you."

Cheryl was astounded. She could only stare and had to force her mouth to stay closed. He waited for her to speak but she couldn't believe what she was hearing. She could barely think while he gazed at her expectantly. Working her tongue around, she finally managed to speak. "I-I don't know what to say." The redhead rose with a small moan from the pain and Dave's eyes followed, too expectant for her answer to ask how she was feeling. Cheryl turned away from him as the anger finally registered. Batista had no business "attacking" Edge over her. It was a complete accident. Between her father and brother verbally expressing quite the anger over the incident and Batista physically expressing his on Edge, she had been pushed over the limit. She could take care of herself and it hardly mattered that Edge was involved. It was her fault they were out in the first place. She promised _one _more date to the girls and didn't want to put it off. "I don't need you standing up for me," she calmly said and then turned to face him. "I'm a grown woman. I think you threatening Edge was out of line. It was an accident, pure and simple, okay? I think maybe you should go."

"Cheryl, please—" he started, standing and holding out his hand.

"No, please, go," she interrupted and turned back away, her emotions torn between anger and wanting to accept his confession of liking her. "I have to have time to deal with this and—and…"

Batista nodded. "Maybe I am sorry now," he whispered and quietly left.

Cheryl answered the light tapping on the adjoining door. "Can we come in now?" Nidia asked, peeking around the door,and the redhead nodded in response. "What happened?"

"I-I don't want to…to talk about it," she stuttered in reply.

The trio nodded in response and Lita brightened with a smile, hoping to redeem the evening. "Our food's getting cold. Let's finish eating and I'll pour us some shots. Hmm? We have to toast me getting rid of that fake pregnant stomach."

"Yeah," Cheryl replied with a weak smile and began to work the corner of her lip between her teeth. They continued on in their usual manner for Monday night while the newest of the divas attempted not to withdraw into her thoughts.

With one margarita and two shots of tequila in her, Cheryl was grateful when Lita and Victoria drifted off to their respective rooms and Nidia turned in for the night. She too was ready to lie down and rest. All of her body ached from the impact of the car wreck and she had refused to take painkillers during the day so they wouldn't interfere with her work. When her thoughts threatened to overwhelm her, she considered the numbing pills but then forced herself to work through her problems—Edge and Batista.

Nothing had changed since their first date. The blonde never pushed her farther than a goodnight kiss, which was more brotherly than anything. She truly enjoyed his company. He had a sensitive streak a mile wide but the chemistry was at absolute zero. Maybe he felt it too since he had yet to make a move but she couldn't understand why he continued to ask her out. Yet, the nurse who had taken her to the hospital advised her not to pass up someone like Edge. He really was such a great guy. _Maybe if I hang on to the relationship a little bit longer, _she thought but realized that now she had this new revelation to deal with.

Batista had been flirting with her all that time—something that she was suspicious of but welcomed. Then he backed off so quickly that she was positive he wasn't interested in her. But she was interested in him. Each time she had vehemently denied anything was a way of helping her deal with the fact that Dave had stopped joking with her and rarely talked to her. She hadn't wanted to admit it but now she was forced to. She had feelings for him and they went beyond "nice." Her stomach fluttered thinking about his confession. Of the few guys she had dated since joining the land of the living about a year ago, Dave was the only one close to sending chills across her body when she thought of him. She had forced herself to "keep living" by dating but now she had the chance of starting new with someone she knew she could fall deeply for.

_If there's any chance left…_ Cheryl thought, recalling her somewhat harsh words to him. She had let her pride get the best of her. As a woman fighting for her way in a man's world, she was highly sensitive to such issues. Yet, he had done it for her. He was so upset about her getting hurt that he had threatened and almost attacked Edge over it. Then she remembered the other equation in the relationship—Edge. _What do I do about him? Do I tell him that there's nothing between us? Will he blame Dave? _she thought, squeezing her eyes tight. She decided on an apology to Dave first and then find a way to tell Edge her feelings.

* * *

For one who spent four days thinking about what she would say, Cheryl was still unprepared at the house show when she and Batista crossed paths. He nodded at her and passed on by but she finally found her voice and called out after him.She was still required to wear the sunglasses but she quickly pulled them off to look him in the eyes. "Dave, I am _so _sorry about the way I treated you last Monday. My father and Craig—he's my brother—they said the same things and it just—" 

"It's okay," he interrupted, taking the glasses from her and slipping them back over her ears. "You need these for two more days."

She smiled at his thoughtfulness. "So, are we okay?"

"Yeah…yeah, I think so. As long as you gave your family the same treatment," he said firmly but then grinned.

"As best as I could over the phone."

"So, if we're okay, that means we have to go back to our usual," he said, rubbing his chin in mock thought.

"What, a joke a day?"

"Actually, inviting you out for drinks." He had scared her enough by attacking her boyfriend and then declaring his feelings. The blonde was still a factor and he wasn't going to ask her to cheat with him. So, he thought starting small and edging in would be the smarter strategy. "Come hang out with us tonight."

"I don't know," she replied. The long flight had taken a lot out of her and she still had to break it to Edge that she no longer wanted to see him on a romantic basis, if that was what it could be called. "We'll see," she quietly replied, glancing down, and then making her excuses to leave.

Later that evening the hotel room was so eerily quiet that, when the air kicked on with a whooshing noise that sounded like an old man calling for 'Steve,' Cheryl almost darted back to the door, thinking a person was in the room. Settling her nerves, she dropped her things on the bed and plopped down to enjoy the silence and solitude. She had yet to find time beyond the casual 'hi, how are you doing since we were in a carwreck together?' to talk to Edge. They talked once on the phone in the past week, which was basically a quick conversation to see what their schedule was like for the weekend, which both said was quite full. Neither one spoke to the other at the house show, although both were present. Cheryl had blamed it on not having time but, in the recesses of her mind where she refused to admit it, she knew she was avoiding Edge like the plague because of Dave's 'attack' on him and the subsequent confession, along with dreading breaking her feelings to him.

Slipping out of her shoes, the redhead noticed the book of poetry on Lita's bed, picked it up, and flipped it open to the first page. Nidia's name was signed inside in a flowery kind of cursive. A few of the pages were dog-eared and Cheryl couldn't resist reading what Nidia—or Lita—had marked. The first two were Shakespearean sonnets. The next was one by Anne Bradstreet. Cheryl's eyes widened when she noticed the print on the opposite page. She reached for her glasses to prove that her mind wasn't playing tricks. No, it was still there and she dropped the glasses on the nightstand, rubbing her eyes to stop the sting of the memory.

_Cheryl pondered how the autumn day had been gorgeous to the point of perfection and wondered if it could get any better as she and Pierce strolled up to her beach house. She had clung to him, soaking up the warmth of his body against the chill of the breeze coming off the water, during their return walk from visiting friends several houses down. When she started up the boardwalk, Pierce tugged her in the direction of the dunes that separated the beach from the residences. She eyed him funny but he put a finger to her lips and continued to a tiny valley between the dunes where he had laid out a blanket with candles nestled in the sand around it and bottle of wine with fluted glasses settled on one corner._

_Shielded from the perpetual wind by the low hills, they sat together in silence and enjoyed the sound of the sea, the tang of the wine, and the brilliant stars. Finally, he took the wine glass from her and rose up on his knees, taking her hands in his and prompting her to mirror his posture._

_"How shall I hold my soul, that it may not be touching yours?" Pierce began in a low, husky voice. "How shall I lift it then above you to where other things are waiting?" Cheryl smiled at the words that she vaguely remembered from an English class. He had never recited anything to her before and she was entranced by his voice. "Gladly would I lodge it, all-forgot, with some lost thing the dark is isolating on some remote and silent spot that, when your depths vibrate, is not itself vibrating." Pierce stopped for a moment as if pondering the lines and then licked his lips as she prodded him to continue with a squeeze of his hands. Never had she ever seen him this nervous._

_"You and me—all that lights upon us, though, brings us together like a fiddle-bow drawing one voice from two strings it glides along. Across what instruments have we been spanned and what violinist holds us in his hand? O sweetest song." (1) He quietly trailed off as he finished the last phrase. Cheryl found she was holding her breath as she had listened to him, enchanted by the moment. "One voice from two strings," he repeated and slipped his hand into his pocket. "Cheryl," he said, holding out a diamond ring. "Will you marry me and make that voice one?"_

_Her eyes dropped to the diamond solitaire and back up to his waiting face. He swallowed hard as his eyes searched hers for an answer. From surprise and overwhelming emotion, she couldn't find her tongue to answer and finally nodded._

_"You will?" he asked, taking her left hand and starting to slip the ring on to her finger._

_"Yes," she squeaked and he pushed the ring in place before enveloping her in an embrace._

"That's it," Cheryl stated out loud, clapping the book closed and then throwing open her suitcase. She sifted through her clothes until she found her least conservative outfit that was not wrestling attire. Quickly dressing, she ran a pick through her hair and added a touch of perfume to her neck. Finally satisfied with her appearance, she picked up her purse and headed to the elevator.

Cheryl held her head high as she strode through the lobby to the entrance of the hotel's bar and restaurant. Stopping inside, she held up a hand to the hostess to let her know that she wouldn't be needed. When she caught sight of whom she was looking for, she ran a hand over her skirt and slowly walked over to where Dave Batista sat.

His eyes widened at that fact that she showed up, and a little at her appearance, and he immediately stood up to greet her. "You came!" he exclaimed and gazed over her body, not able to hide his appraisal of her long skirt that was slit high on both sides of her thighs and a sapphire blouse of faux sequins that was nothing more than a panel of cloth in the front held in place by a tie in the back. He wasn't the only one looking as she took stock of his well-rounded butt in the black pants and his broad chest swathed in a very becoming lilac, a surprise there.

"Yeah. The girls left me alone tonight and I thought I'd take you up on that offer," she lied, knowing the truth was that she couldn't let her memories of Pierce keep controlling her. This was the first step, even though she was terribly frightened of making it since she hadn't begun to care for someone like this since before she met her husband.

"What do you want me to get you to drink?" his silky voice asked and she smiled at him with her answer. "Where's your glasses?"

She glanced around and shrugged her shoulders. "It's dark enough in here. I'll be fine."

"Alright, don't make me hurt you if you're lying to me," he laughed, enjoying her hazel eyes that he had barely seen in two weeks. "I know you've been around for several months but let me introduce you to the guys."

"That'd be great because I don't know everybody's name," she replied, glancing over the group at the large table that included Randy Orton, one of the refs, and two guys from the crew that she did know. _Plus, it's a way to hopefully get them to like me, _she thought, recognizing one woman's face that had given her a death glare.

With introductions of the staff that she didn't know done, Leila, the death glare woman, asked, "So where's your boyfriend, Edge?"

"He's not exactly my…boyfriend."

"You're dating, aren't you?" she shot back.

"Kinda. We're not exclusive or-or anything," the redhead answered. _Which is the truth, _she thought, hoping that _he _didn't think they were exclusive.

"I hope so, because there he is now," Leila pointed out.

TBC…

(1) "Love-Song" by Ranier Maria Rilke

**

* * *

Author's Notes:** Did y'all see the "You talkin' to me?" Wrestlemania commercial this past Monday? Batista was absolutely awesome in it! Even if I didn't love him so much, he would still have cracked me up! I thought his part was the best anyhow. 


	7. Make It a Good One

**_Chapter VII: Make It a Good One_**

"I hope so, because there he is now," Leila pointed out.

"Excuse me a moment," Cheryl quietly stated and made her way over to Edge.

"Cheryl, hey," he said. "I didn't think you'd be up for coming out tonight. You looked really tired today. Hey, where's your sunglasses?"

She slightly blushed since it was the third time that day that a handsome man was concerned with her welfare. "It's dim enough in here. Anyhow, I just really needed to get out. But can we, uh, talk a moment?"

"Um, yeah," he answered, glancing around the place. "I'm supposed to meeting Chris here to discuss some travel arrangements for this week but he's not here yet. What can I do for you?" he asked, leading her to a table.

"We're not exclusive, are we?"

He sighed and then replied, "I've been wanting to talk about 'us' too. I just didn't want to do it this way and especially after the wreck." Cheryl licked her lips that were suddenly dry. "I don't know how else to put this but…maybe we should just be friends."

"I was thinking that too," she said with a sigh of relief. "I'm really sorry but I just don't feel that way for you."

"No need to be sorry because, frankly, I don't either," Edge replied with a nervous laugh. "Well, I mean, you're a great friend and all and I want it to stay that way."

"Yeah, me too," she exhaled.

"And, by the way, I think there's someone who might feel a bit differently about you though," he said, glancing over his shoulder in Batista's direction.

"You know, I'm sorry he th—"

"It's no problem. Well, it is but I'd probably have reacted the same way if I felt about a girl like he feels about you."

Edge was being so nice that she almost felt guilty for the conversation but then glanced in the direction he had nodded to see Dave talking with his friends. "Has he said something to you?" she asked.

Edge shook his head. "I can just tell. So, don't keep him waiting. Besides, I'll get him back," he added, cracking his knuckles with a devilish grin.

"Promise you'll go easy on him."

"I'll try," he teased.

Cheryl beamed a grin that split her face. "You're the greatest friend. See ya," she replied, squeezing Edge's hand and slipping out of the table as Chris Jericho strolled up to the table.

The second Cheryl had walked away to talk to Edge, Batista pulled Leila aside. "You knew she was dating Edge and didn't tell me?"

"I come here with you guys to get away from work," the petite blonde replied. "Of course, I didn't say anything. I didn't even know you liked her until I saw the look on your face when she walked up."

"Sorry," Dave muttered and then returned back to the group.

"You're not gonna beat him up, are you?" Orton whispered and Batista only glared at him. He had tried not to watch Cheryl and Edge talking but his jealousy was getting the better of him. Her face still bore tiny marks from the cuts and her forehead sported a new red scar, all of which reminded him how much more mad he was at Edge. He was surprised to see her coming back towards him at all. "Well, we just _broke up_," she whispered in his ear with a tiny laugh.

"Sorry," he quietly replied, holding the sympathetic look on his face until Cheryl turned away to be seated.

It was then that Randy caught the unsubtle change. "They broke up?" he asked where he thought only Dave could hear him.

"Broke up?" most everyone in the group began to echo.

Cheryl turned red, not meaning for the entire group to know what happened, as if they wouldn't figure it out on their own. "Well, uh, we just decided that we, uh, needed to just be, you know, friends…" she stuttered, embarrassed and caught off-guard. Leila's smile was something between smug and hopeful but she nor her group of girlfriends shot her another look after that night in which Cheryl got to know Leila a little more.

Dave could barely contain his excitement at the diva's proclamation. He had to change his strategy in mid-plan, which basically consisted of throwing it all out the window and going with his emotions. After a round of drinks, he casually slipped his arm over the back of her chair. Cheryl instantly grew quiet but leaned back to absorb the feel that already sent shivers down her spine. She glanced at him shyly and his hand slid over to caress her back. The corner of his mouth twitched in a half-smile and she returned to paying attention to the story one of the guys was telling.

After a few round of drinks, the alcohol was lulling her into a sleepy haze, along with Dave's hand lightly massaging her neck. It seemed that the gang wasn't slowing down, so she excused herself for the night. Dave offered to walk her up to her room and she accepted. They stopped at her door and her shy smile returned. "Can we go out some time?"

"That would be great," she answered with a grin.

"Have a good night," he said, squeezing her arm.

"You too," she whispered, her heart racing over wondering if he would kiss her or not.

"See you later," he replied and headed down the hall, wishing he would have kissed her but the wrestler didn't want to put too much on her after just 'breaking up' with Edge. Waiting a little longer would only make it sweeter.

Cheryl sighed heavily as she entered the hotel room to find Lita flipping through the book of poetry. "Hey, where have you been? I was about to send out a search party."

"Boy, have I got news for you. Nidia and Victoria around? It'll be easier to tell all of y'all once," she said, hardly containing the excitement in her voice.

Back downstairs, Dave slid into the chair he had recently vacated. Randy leaned over and whispered, "Damn, that was fast! Either you're getting better or losing your touch."

Dave closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance but then broke out into a grin. "You're gonna get it," he muttered, trying to sound threatening but failed when he started laughing.

* * *

Monday was the first time Cheryl and Batista saw each other again. Her character was being grilled by Triple H about what happened the previous week after Orton vehemently denied that he was involved. 

"I've seen the way he's been flirting with you ever since you got here. Tell me what happened," Helmsley said, as he paced the floor in his charcoal suit.

"I can't remember!" she screamed once again at Hunter as he got in her face. "Just leave him alone until I can."

"Are you trying to cover up for him for some sick reason?" he angrily asked, staring down at her seated form. If this hadn't been a skit, she would have peed on herself from the way he was glaring at her.

"I think you're just using me as an excuse to beat the hell out of him."

Triple H stopped his pacing to glower at her. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"Look, if it is him, you have my blessing to kick his ass," she said, gesturing at her face that Nick has made look much worse than it was.

"I found him hovering over you. Who else could it be? Until you tell me otherwise, I plan on beating a confession out of him," Hunter finished and stalked out of view.

"If you weren't my brother…" she muttered loud enough for the microphone to pick up.

With one vignette down, she was heading off to prepare for the other when Batista stopped her. "So, is the, um, what was it—junk food club—meeting tonight?"

"Every Monday," she said with a smile.

"You know, we've got an open day between the house show and RAW next week. What say we do something?"

"That would be great."

"So what are you doing now?"

Cheryl sighed. "I've got to film a scene with Stacy. My storyline's all screwed up right now. I'm supposed to be fighting with her instead of this stuff with Randy but…well, you get it. Give me a call, we'll work on Sunday, okay?"

On screen, Stacy Kiebler accused her of intentionally getting hurt so that she wouldn't have to wrestle her on RAW because she was afraid of her. Words were exchanged and it was all over with quickly. The point was just to keep the feud going.

With the camera off, Stacy straightened to her full height and snipped, "So, you took my advice and dumped Edge, huh?"

_Gossip travels fast around here, _she thought. "It was a mutual agreement. Why should it matter to you?"

"Just looking out for your best interests. We've got to look out for each other," she sarcastically replied.

"No," Cheryl stiffly replied and began talking before she realized the words were out of her mouth. "I heard what you said about me the first day I was here but I let that slide. I let the orange lipstick slide 'cause everything turned out alright. But I'm sick of your comments. What exactly did I do to piss you off?"

Stacy's eyes narrowed to slits and she walked off, shaking her head. "Don't get too comfortable with Dave with your track record around here," she called out behind her.

Cheryl was fuming. She wanted to attack the blonde bimbo but it wasn't in her to start trouble. The next week might have gone easier had she not thought often of how pissed she was at Stacy, which left a ball of anger in the pit of her stomach. To combat it, the redhead reminded herself that she had a date with the sexist man in wrestling on Sunday.

Dave said he would pick her up early afternoon and had told her to dress for a work-out, which slightly disappointed her in that they weren't going out for a night on the town. The suit he had on briefly for RAW had bowled her over and she was hoping for more. Either way, it didn't really matter when he showed up at her hotel door just that they were going to spend the day together.

The two should have been beyond their nervousness after the impromptu "bar date" that led to Cheryl and Edge breaking up but it was as if they were starting over again. They sent each shy glances throughout the drive to wherever it was Dave was taking them. She pressed her face to the glass with a slight gasp when they pulled up in the parking lot of the local recreation center. Of the five fields, four were occupied with teams either practicing baseball or softball.

"You said it's been almost three years since you played. Thought it was something we could do. I don't have a whole team to go with the field but I play too." She turned surprised eyes on him. "Never collegiately but with my sister's company's team." He slid out of the truck and pulled out a ball bag from the extended cab. "You ready?"

"Are you kidding?" she enthusiastically replied and jumped out the vehicle. "I could have brought all of my gear," she said, catching the glove he tossed to her. "I don't even have my cleats."

"We're not playing a game. Just thought we could field some and maybe hit the cages."

"Good enough," she said, pulling the glove on with a sigh. They began warm-up tosses and Batista was surprised at the strength and snappiness of her throws. "I may not be a guy but I _can_ play ball," she replied with a grin when she noticed the slight surprise in his eyes.

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to," she replied and heaved the softball back with a grunt that smacked into his glove.

"You do know the fall get-together thing that the McMahons throw to try to 'foster relationships among the employees'," he made rabbit ears with one hand after a toss, "is a cook-out and softball tournament?"

"Oh, really?" she said, obvious enthusiasm showing through and making Dave chuckle.

"Yeah, god forbid they give that to us in a bonus or relax the dress code…Don't tell Hunter I said that."

"Cross my heart…"

"If you love softball so much, why didn't you do something with it?" he asked, tossing the ball back.

She took several steps back to third base and motioned for him to go the first. "Just in case you haven't noticed," she started and then hurled the ball across the diamond, "there's nothing to do but the Olympics and I'm so far away from that level, it's pathetic."

"You could have coached," he said, whipping the ball towards her.

"I was the assistant coach of the local high school until I started training to wrestle. I didn't have the right degree, not a P.E. degree, to be a head coach but it was a tide-me-over in between seasons with the church league."

"Why'd you quit ball for wrestling?" he asked in mid-throw.

She shrugged with the catch. "I don't really know what started it. Always watched wrestling, always thought it'd be neat to try. When this local guy offered to train me because he was looking for more women, I blew him off until Pierce pushed me into at least trying. I promised I'd do it for six weeks and somewhere in there I got hooked. It was like having a license to take out my aggression since they wouldn't let me do it at work," she explained between grunts and snaps.

"Work?"

"Yeah, I had the official title of bouncer and had more black clothes than I knew what to do with but I was somehow relegated to calling cabs, settling lovers' quarrels, and watching the security tapes. The best nights were when I got to stand in the corner and glower at everyone before I threw some woman out."

"I knew a couple of women bouncers in D.C. I did some bouncing myself," he replied. Catching her throw, he interjected, "You wanna take fielding now? I'll hit."

"Sure," she replied and slightly shifted in the infield as he took up a bat. "We'll have to compare notes sometime but I don't plan on going back to bouncing any time soon."

"How long did you train?" he asked, tossing up a ball to send a grounder her way.

She slightly laughed and replied, "Three months."

"What?" Dave blurted in surprise.

"Three months the first time. I broke my ankle and had to take time off," she said with a laugh again.

"What's so funny about a broken ankle?"

Cheryl's eyes followed the high pop-up as she replied, "Because that was two weeks before my wedding." With a basket catch, she fired off the ball where the first baseman would have been. "I had my dress let out to hide the caste and somehow managed to stay on my feet without the crutches the entire hour. Needless to say, we were fairly late in getting around to the first dance." The line drive that came off the bat caught her off-guard and she hurled the ball slightly above Dave's head, causing him to jump. "Pay back for the liner," she said with an impish grin.

He shook his head and smiled back. "Seriously, how long did you train?"

"Three years before I got a call from a WWE scout. I came in for a try-out and then got a call two weeks later with an offer for a developmental contract that almost didn't happen be—" She stopped abruptly, realizing she had said more than she meant to.

Batista popped another hit off to her as she cut herself off and he watched her scoop it up with enthusiasm. The shadow that had passed over her face was instantly gone as she focused on the ball and hit her target behind first base.

"One more and I'll hit some to you. Make it a good one," she said, wiping sweat away from her forehead.

"What were you about to say?" he asked, popping off the hit. She dropped her stance to catch the ball but it bounced off a rock, hitting her on the inside of one knee and ricocheting off to bang the other one. Her knees buckled as instinct drove her to pick the ball up and hurl it to the imaginary first baseman. She got the throw off and tried to stand upright but her knees buckled again.

"You okay?" Dave asked for the second time.

"Yeah, that hit clipped both of my knees but I'm alright," Cheryl answered, a little through clenched teeth.

"Let me look," he said, starting to bend over where she was crouched on the balls on her feet.

"It's not like this is the first time I've been hit," she said, rubbing a hand over one of red spots. It had been a long time since she had taken a hit like that and had forgotten how bad it could hurt.

"Let me look," he firmly replied. "I don't want to put you down on the ground."

"Fine," she snapped and landed on her butt with a thud.

The insides of her knees were starting to swell. "Does it hurt?" She rolled her eyes and shot him a look that said, 'What the hell do you think?' He poked one and then held out his hands to help her up. "Let's get some ice from the rec house."

"I'm fine. I'll show you. You take fielding practice. Better yet, I'll keep doing it."

"Don't you have a photo shoot coming up?" Dave asked, crossing his arms from where stooped.

She looked down at her knees that were sporting splotches of red and pink. "Alright, only because I can't have them turning interesting shades of blue and purple for the photographer, not because I'm some girl in need of a guy to help her."

"Fine, but know I'm not being a chauvinist when I ask if you need help getting to the truck."

"And know that I'm not being a femi-nazi when I tell you I can get there myself while you get the ice," she replied and held out a hand for him to help her up.

TBC…


	8. If It's Love

**_Chapter VIII: If It's Love. . ._**

After having to cut their time on the field short, the two were back at the hotel. Cheryl was showered and had her knees propped up with pillows while she and Dave munched on take-out. "Can I ask you something?" he curiously asked.

"Depends," she replied with a shrug.

"Yes or no?"

"I guess."

"You said your developmental contract almost didn't happen. What were you going to say?" Dave prodded.

She opened her mouth and then closed it. Without some sort of a script and some time to think about it, she was at loss for ad libbing. So, with a shrug of her shoulders, she replied nonchalantly, "I almost didn't take it. That's all."

"And I think you're lying to me. Does it have to do with your husband?"

"Yeah but guys don't want to hear about their girlfriends' past boyfriends'…or in my case, husband," she answered, dismissing him.

"I think it's different with us. It's not like the both of you got a divorce or anything. What happened?"

Cheryl thought for a moment, wondering how to begin. "I got the call on Tuesday with the offer. I only went to the try-out because Pierce insisted I go. Oh, _Pierce_ was my husband…" He nodded, having figured that out already, and she continued. "Anyhow, we talked about it for two or three days. I had a week to think about it but I was so scared to take the contract. I didn't think I could do it but Pierce was so supportive. That Wednesday I came down with a head cold that would put a mammoth down. I worked that night but I thought I was going to die…" Cheryl's eyes drifted off as she related the story of her husband's death and the aftermath to anyone for the first time beyond her family.

_Everyone assumed that the perpetually drippy nose and croaking voice of the widow were the physical signs of her grief and her hollow, vacant eyes the emotional reflection of her soul. They couldn't have been more wrong. Cheryl's sinusitis was near the tail-end of its run, leaving her with a sore throat from the drainage. The emptiness of her face was the result of a continuous string of sedatives some "kind" relative thought to slip her after a very ugly bout with her mother-in-law, a woman she never got along with because she attempted to control Pierce's life more than a mother should for a thirty-five-year-old man._

_Mike had taken Cheryl home and put her in bed at the crack of dawn before calling their relatives. When she finally woke, she was being crowded by her parents and in-laws. As the events of the previous night came rushing back, she stumbled into her bathroom and wretched the bile that was rising in her throat. The woman had handled grief before by packing it all away and dealing with it at a more appropriate time—usually never, depending on the circumstance. She had fallen apart hours before and, to her, now was not the time for another public episode. With stoicism, she dressed, ate, and listened to her and Pierce's kin begin to tell her how to handle the funeral, insurance, etc. The façade fell apart that afternoon at the funeral home._

_As the widow, Cheryl was granted the privilege of making the decisions for the service and interment. South Carolina was the couple's childhood and adult home and in South Carolina Pierce would stay. The two had discussed their wishes in case one of them should die "before their time." Pierce had been adamant about wanting only a grave-side service, extremely adamant. In the director's office, she quietly explained her husband's wishes until his mother interrupted her._

_"No service?" Marjorie Ellis almost shouted, standing up from her chair._

_"It's what he wanted," Cheryl replied, not looking up at the other woman._

_"What he wanted or what you want?"_

_"What is that supposed to mean?" the redhead ground out, whipping her head up to glare at her mother-in-law._

_"You're just being selfish and keeping as much of the insurance money as you can to support that stupid hobby of yours!" Marjorie yelled, referring to Cheryl's training as a wrestler._

_"I won't grace the comment about my hobby with a reply but I will tell you what I think about you," she shouted in reply, shooting up from the chair._

_"Don't you—" the older woman started but was quickly interrupted._

_"No, don't you. Pierce made it abundantly clear what he wanted and I intend to make that happen."_

_"Ladies, ladies," the funeral home director interrupted. "Did Mr. Ellis have this put in writing?"_

_Cheryl stared at the man with her mouth agape. "Uh, uh, n-no."_

_"Listen here, missy," her mother-in-law started again. "My son deserves a funeral service and that's what he'll have."_

_"You over-bearing bitch. I can't believe you. You tried to control him when he was alive and now you try to control him even in death. You'll get your service over my dead body."_

_"That can be arran—" Cheryl never gave her a chance to finish, yelling an obscenity and then lunging at the offending woman. Strong hands reached out and pulled her back while Pierce's mother stared in shock. The redhead rushed out of the office and passed the crowd that gathered to hear the argument. Once in the bathroom, she blew her nose and wet her face with cool water. Not once in her life had she ever acted that way, especially to her elders. Someone, a face she couldn't remember, maybe an aunt, pressed a glass of ice water into her hand and a pill that looked like Tylenol. The drug had immediately worked its magic. _

_Cheryl knew more about the attack that took her husband's life, an event for which she wasn't present, than the funeral, the event she was practically the center of but could barely recall. The next clear thing she remembered after the glass of water was the morning after the funeral. The rest was a blurred image. It was like walking through a fuzzy dream. She remembered a minister talking about heaven and hell and being pushed towards Pierce's coffin in front of a crowd. In an out-of-body state, she watched herself place a red rose on the white pillow and kiss the cold body on the cheek. Or at least she thought it was a red rose. She had paused, seeing beyond Pierce in the casket, feeling that there was something else she was supposed to do, a promise… In a flash she went from being inside the church to being seated on a green covered chair in a cemetery. A clod of dirt was pressed into her hand and she tossed it into the gaping hole in the ground. The scent of lilies followed every blurry image._

_When Cheryl was finally lucid, she shot straight up in bed and shouted, "A shot glass! It was supposed to a shot glass! I promised him!"_

_Her mother rushed into the bedroom as Cheryl babbled on about not getting to put a shot glass in the coffin with Pierce. "Honey, why didn't you tell someone? We would have stopped the service and got you one."_

_Cheryl hardly believed that Marjorie Ellis would have allowed that to happen. "I don't know why…" she trailed off before rising and stumbling down the stairs._

_"Honey, why don't you get a shower and change your clothes? It'll make you feel better," Roslyn cooed, following her every step._

_"I…I…" she started but stopped as she gazed around the living room at the arrangements someone chose to bring to her home instead of placing on the grave. A large vase of lilies centered them and Cheryl vividly remembered staring at them throughout the entire service. They were the only thing she could specifically recall and they turned her stomach. She picked them up, their smell overwhelming her, and thrust them at her mother. "These have to be thrown away…now."_

_"We have to send a thank you card—" Roslyn began as she took the flowers from her daughter._

_"Take the florist card out and throw them away. I can't look at them."_

_"What about the others?"_

_Cheryl glanced around at them. "They can stay."_

"Now that I had all my faculties about me, I called OVW a day after the deadline but, given the circumstances, they let it slide," Cheryl explained. "I had most of his estate settled in four days and was in Ohio by the next Sunday night. I couldn't stay in Hilton Head. I couldn't go back to work, to the place where he was killed. It got me out of our house. Wrestling was my way of dealing with the grief. At first I did it to run away but then… Well, that's all history. I did it for him, I even dedicated my first match on RAW to him…of course, my family and I were the only people who knew…" She then looked up at Dave, her eyes clear. "But mostly, I did it for me and I don't regret one bit of it."

The dark-haired man had no way of responding and could only say, "I'm sorry."

"See, that's exactly why I don't tell anyone about him. I don't need sympathy for some tragic past. I'm by far not the only person in this world to have such dumb luck. I've moved on. I don't want people to see a widow when they see me."

"You wanna know what I see?" She looked away from him and he rose from the chair he was lounging in to sit beside her. Gently, he turned her face to his and huskily continued. "I see a beautiful woman, inside and out, who just needs to believe in herself. I see a sexy woman who's vibrant and full of life. I see a woman that I want to kiss so bad right now but I don't want her to think I'm taking advantage of her."

"You won't be," she breathed. He leaned in and their lips met. Her shivers had shivers as the heat spread throughout her body. She wrapped her arms around his neck and entwined her fingers in his dark curls, something she had been itching to do for far too long. When Dave was afraid he wouldn't be able to stop himself, he pulled away from her, sucking her lower lip as he drew away.

She gulped in a breath as he whispered, "I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself."

"You don't hear me complaining."

Dave stole a quick kiss and then checked the bags of ice on her knees. "Time to change these," he said, taking both of them with him into the bathroom. Cheryl grinned and slid down into the pillows in bliss.

* * *

Dave and Cheryl were inseparable while they were on the road, with the exception of the Monday night crew. The diva wasn't about to give up that relationship with her girlfriends, knowing when she had found a good thing. But she knew she had found just the same in Dave. They worked out together, drove to the next show together, had supper and after show drinks together… Triple H and Stephanie had even caught the two of them, dressed to the hilt and wearing cheap black masks, with a bag of candy a piece coming into the hotel as the wrestling royalty were on their way out to a Halloween party. 

Word quickly spread they were an item. Now Cheryl had pissed off an entirely different set of women who thought she was just moving through men like underwear. Of course, what single woman wouldn't be jealous of the one who snagged Dave Batista? Lita had caught wind of the rumblings but decided not to tell her this time. She could tell Cheryl was coming out of her shell and being less shy around the staff. Lita knew she would be so self-conscious about it and the new diva didn't need another hole in her cheek because she was chewing on it from stress. Besides, when was the backstage not rumbling about something? It would pass in two weeks like everything else did.

RAW was another match-less night for Cheryl, for which she was grateful since she could barely wear pants from the knots on her knees. Triple H grilled her character once again about her attacker—this time less in-depth. Besides Dave sending her a bouquet of a variety of pink, white, and red flowers, the only thing good about the night was getting to chase Stacy Keibler on a motorcycle. In the midst of an interview, Stacy interrupted Cherry Leigh where she leaned against the Hog, shoving her and almost sending the bike down with her. The redhead immediately righted herself, steadied the Harley, and shoved on her helmet. She squealed off as Stacy quickly climbed into a limo. When the sleek vehicle disappeared, Cherry Leigh pulled her flamed helmet off to stare into the darkness beyond the garage door. When it was all said and done and the limo returned, Stacy stalked off without a word.

If only the next week was as easy. Cheryl took a step down in her performance to accommodate the inexperienced Stacy. The match that their feud had been leading up to was finally taking place. The redhead couldn't have been more elated about no longer having to do vignettes with the woman. If only she could feel that elation during the match. The only emotion coursing through her after the match was anger as she limped to the back.

"Calm down," Lita ordered, taking Cheryl by the shoulders.

"The bitch worked stiff the entire match," she replied, jerking away.

"She's not smart enough to do that," the other redhead condescendingly responded.

"I don't think we give her enough credit. She twisted the ankle that I broke several years ago. And she didn't slap my chest, she chopped it and caught me in the throat. That's not counting the fact that she nailed me in both of my knees where I got hit with that ball."

"You should have your ankle looked at," Lita said, changing the conversation in hopes of helping to abate Cheryl's anger.

"It'll be fine. It's just really tender…I'll take it easy for a couple of days," she added, seeing the demanding look on Lita's face. "Look, if I let one of the trainers look at it, I probably won't be able to play ball this weekend and I have no intention of missing that."

Lita snorted with a half-smile. "One of those, huh?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Cheryl demanded.

"Let's just say that the only time me and Stacy are alike will be this Saturday when I stand on the sidelines and cheer."

"C'mon. It's not that bad," she replied, peeling out of her wrestling attire.

"Whoa, you've not played ball with these guys. You think they're competitive now, wait 'til you see them this weekend. Now, in the spring when we play soccer, I'll give'em a run for my money."

"Good, you can count me out then. Definitely not my game," Cheryl replied, gingerly heading for the showers. Lita smiled to herself, glad that she put that fire out before it really got started.

* * *

By the way the people were standing in slightly amorphous groups, Cheryl could tell that this yearly gathering had its permanence and ritual. Even with Vince McMahon present, he hung towards the back and the entire group seemed to look to Triple H as the coordinator of this tournament. He named the coaches, probably the same from the past years—Hunter himself (no surprise there), Vince McMahon, Kurt Angle, and the token female, Trish Stratus. Then the part that Cheryl always hated began, the picking of teams. Growing up, her quiet nature relegated her to the last of the choices, mistaking her reservedness for one of unathleticism. By the time she was playing varsity softball, she had no need of pick-up teams. 

Hunter picked first (no surprise) and chose Batista. The two then paid little attention to the next three choices as an argument arose. "Cheryl next, you've got to get Cheryl next," Dave insisted.

"I'm not picking her because you're doing her," Hunter muttered and turned his attention back to the coaches.

"I'm not—" He quickly stopped, not about to admit that that wasn't exactly going on between them yet. "She played in college, 3rd base," Dave whispered over Helmsley's shoulder, holding his glare back.

Hunter paused for a second to digest the information then replied, "Steph will eat me alive."

"Do you want to lose to Vince again? Two years in a row? He ate us _alive _last year!"

Hunter glanced over his shoulder at his wife, who was holding a parasol over her head to shield her from the fall noon sun. "For God's sake, Hunter," Vince firmly interrupted, "pick Quentavious and get it over with."

Hunter gulped as he looked up. "I pick Cheryl."

Vince laughed and said, "Good, I get Quentavious."

The man in discussion strutted past Hunter with a crooked grin. "It's good to finally be on a winning team."

"Did I screw something up?" Cheryl whispered to Dave as she sidled up to him during the next round of picks.

"No, you've just made it better. McMahon's won three years in a row. He put us out in the last game last year. He's going down," he explained.

"And I'm supposed to do it?" she asked and sucked her lip between her teeth.

"He and Quent are pull hitters, straight down the third base line. They'll never know what hit them."

Cheryl gulped and shook her head. "I'll try."

Chris Jericho was the last choice for their team and he shuffled up, mumbling something about why they couldn't play hockey. Hunter clapped his hands together and announced, "Alright, the usual—one game before lunch then—"

"And who would be playing that?" Vince asked with quite a smug smile, knowing what had been forgotten.

Helmsley turned to Batista. "Did you bring the schedule?"

"You said you were putting the brackets together."

"Hold on, I said…" He stopped when he heard everyone groaning.

"I can put one together," Cheryl whispered, tugging at Dave's shirt. He turned around with an 'oh really' look. "Yeah, give me a piece of paper." Dave whispered something to Hunter and he announced Vince's and Trish's teams as going up against each other first.

"You can do this?" Hunter asked, disbelievingly. She glared at him and jerked the notepad from his hand. In minutes, she had sketched out the double-elimination brackets of seven possible games for four teams.

"That good enough for you?" she inquired icily, handing him the schedule.

"Perfect," he replied with a toothy grin and slapped her on the back. She rolled her eyes and headed off with Dave to find a seat and scout out the first game.

"Is this co-ed rules, no guys sliding—" Cheryl began but interrupted by Dave's chuckle.

"On that field, all women are men…unless a little groping's going on," he said with a crooked grin and lightly pinched her side close to her breast. When she didn't jerk away, he leaned in for a kiss and then they both turned away to watch the games, a warm blush rising up their cheeks.

During the first game, Edge slid up beside Cheryl on the bleachers and whispered, "How's it going with you two?"

"Great," she quietly replied. "Couldn't be better. How're you doing?"

"Well, I'll be better after I talk to your man. Mind if you slipped off to maybe get you two something to drink while I bother him?"

Cheryl glanced over to see Batista still absorbed in the game. "Go easy on him, okay?" Edge nodded and she turned to Dave to explain where she was going.

Giving her time to leave, the blonde edged over to the bigger man. "Dave, I think you owe me," he said, nodding in the direction of Cheryl.

Batista sighed. "What?"

"That really gorgeous chick you hang out with—Leila?" When Dave nodded, Edge continued. "Would you kinda hint that I might be interested and see what she has to say?"

"What!"

Edge narrowed his eyes and sternly replied, "You owe me…"

Dave rolled his eyes and muttered, "Okay."

"Thanks," the blonde added with smile and patted the big man on the back, only to be met with a glare that sent Edge moving on.

Helmsley's team pulled off their first win but took it badly from Vince's team. Hunter and Dave spent the better part of the time between games, heads bent together in deep discussion. Cheryl and Nidia lounged together under a tree as the sun began to set, both eating their supper. "How are you and Dave doing, chica?" Nidia asked.

"Fine."

"Fine? You two are joined at the hips. Are y'all joinin' at the hips _that _way?"

"Nidia!" Cheryl exclaimed, throwing a chip at her.

"Is it love?"

She shrugged her shoulders in reply because she couldn't quite answer the question. She glanced over at the two wrestlers to see Batista enthusiastically jab the paper Hunter was holding. If asked if she was attracted to him, she would reply with an emphatic 'yes.' She absolutely adored being around him. The minute he was within her sights, her heart went aflutter, yet they hadn't physically gone beyond 'hugs and kisses.' But did she love him? …maybe…

"Well, is it?" Nidia asked again.

"Can't think about it right now. I've got to go get ready for the game," she replied, wiping her hands off on her sliding shorts.

"If it's love, you don't have to think about it."

Resisting the urge to sarcastically reply, Cheryl shrugged her shoulders and hefted herself up from the ground.

Hunter's team had fought its way through the losers' bracket to face McMahon's team in the final game, that is if Vince won. Batista and Helmsley had been attempting to define a strategy to take the second win. Dave noticed her approaching, smiled, and turned back to his conversation. She massaged his shoulders while he and Hunter finalized the line-up. "Ready to warm-up?" she asked, peeling off her long sleeve t-shirt. Dave reached over to check the band-aid on her elbow, which did nothing to hide the scrape from her slide into home from the last game.

"Can you ever play softball without getting hurt?"

"If I didn't get hurt, I didn't play ball," she said with a laugh.

"Just don't get hurt this game, we've got to beat McMahon twice to win," Dave replied.

The celebration from the first win threatened to delay the second game after Vince had plowed through Cheryl on a tag-out, which sent her flying across third base. At least, he had the courtesy to help pick the winded player up off the ground. Hunter joked about him intentionally hurting his best players. Whether or not it was habit, Vince did his trademark swagger across the field, calling back that Hunter couldn't win twice.

And when they did, Cheryl found out where McMahon drew inspiration for his character. The king had been dethroned, by the princess' husband no less. The sign of the times was being inaugurated.

The jabs were merciless as beers were passed around. A full day of tournament had worn everyone out and after a couple rounds of drinks, everyone began to drift off. Dave hugged her to him, sweaty smell and all, and said, "Good job, pum'kin."

"Pumpkin?" she asked, her eyes growing large.

"Can I call you that?" he asked with a smile and twirled her pony-tail. "It's better than Red or Orange."

"I guess," she replied, thrilled that he cared enough to give her a pet name.

"How ya feeling after McMahon took you out?"

"I think my chest'll be sore tomorrow but no big deal," she said, waving him off.

"You looked great out there. I knew you'd do fine."

Cheryl twisted her mouth in thought. "Did you take me out to the fields to _scout _me out?"

"Of course not," he denied.

"And why am I supposed to believe that?"

"Here's a reason," he said and swung her around, dipping her low for a long kiss that garnered several whistles. Forget the fact that they were covered in dirt and her fingers were slippery from the sweat in his hair, Cheryl was breathless when he pulled her up. "Game's over. What would be the point now if I was _scouting _you out?"

"Alright," she replied with a straight face, finally gaining her senses, but then burst out in a smile. He laughed with her and took her bat bag to sling over shoulder so they could return to the car hand in hand.

TBC…


	9. Wishing for an Understanding

For ratings, disclaimers, etc., see chapter one.

_**Chapter IX: Wishing for an Understanding**_

Cherry Leigh had only one part to play on Survivor Series—remember her attacker. The writers were not thrilled about pushing the storyline as far ahead as they had but the carwreck had forced them to. So, now, without regards to the other wrestlers involved, the plans had changed again and Cherry Leigh began her feud with Trish and put her relationship on the rocks with Lita. The blonde in question and Lita were "killing" each otherfor the belt when Cherry Leigh slid into the ring to exact her revenge, costing Lita the match in a DQ. She laid out Trish and walked away with a glare that meant more than words while she wiped away fake blood from her mouth from where Trish had retaliated at first.

The next night, Cherry Leigh would reveal her reasons for attacking Trish and Lita would confront her over the loss of the match and possibly the belt that she had suffered. Hunter would play hypocrite and accuse her of playing him with her memory loss. But for now, after the pay-per-view, the character of Cherry Leigh was taking a backseat in Cheryl's life as she and Dave found an out-of-the-way bar for a few drinks.

The two had stayed over with many other wrestlers to sign autographs and a few comments were made to lead them to believe that many of the fans knew the hotel where they were staying. Not that that would have bothered them so much but, now that they were more or less a couple, time alone was valuable because of their schedule.

Dave was watching the choker, a heart pendant this timewhich moved against her throat as she swallowed, when she waved a hand in front of his face. His eyes snapped up to hers. "Huh?"

She leaned in and whispered, "You have fans," and slightly nodded to her right. He turned to see two women giggling and holding a pen and what looked to be their bar tabs. Batista turned on that smoldering smile and made nice with the ladies for a few minutes. Cheryl watched him ooze charm and shivered when he turned that smile on her. "You wanna get outta here? Nidia's sharing a conjugal visit with her fiancé, so our room's empty," she whispered in his ear, sending tingles down that side of his body. Not wanting to face the intimacy, she had been avoiding being alone with him. After her conversation with Nidia from the day before, she had changed her mind, especially in that one moment. If something happened, then it happened and, ifit didn't, well, it just didn't.

Dave nodded to her, downed the rest of his drink, and took her by the hand to lead her out. He was quiet on the drive back and she carefully studied his face. It seemed that the lines had deepened in his cheeks and forehead. He had recently cut his hair short again, which had highly pissed her off, and it made the creases seem to stand out more. She said nothing in the car and waited until they were in her room. He shrugged out of his jacket and took hers, laying them over one of the chairs. When he turned around, she slid her hands up over his shoulders and traced her fingers across his face.

"You look so tired. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I've had so much on my plate lately but it's getting better," Dave replied and kissed her on the forehead. "I'm not chasing after you anymore," he added facetiously.

"I guess not," she murmured and pulled him down for long kiss. When they pulled away, she noticed the hazy look in his eyes and the stirring inside her stomach that it caused was a sensation she hadn't felt for over two years. They had shared plenty of kisses but now there was so much electricity in the air that her whole body was alight with fire.

Dave felt it too as he slipped the ponytail holder from her hair and ran his fingers through the short tresses and then pulled her to him. He teased her jaw line and neck with kisses and then sucked the hollow at the base of her throat. She moaned at the simple action and slid her hands up from his shoulders into his dark hair. He left hot kisses down her chest as he unbuttoned her shirt, lavishing attention on her skin with his mouth. She finally tore her fingers from his hair and began untucking his shirt. He slipped a hand inside hers and then underneath her bra.

When he felt her stiffen, he pulled back to look into her eyes. "What?" he murmured, cupping her face with his warm hands, a thumb caressing her ear. He leaned forward to kiss her but she slightly withdrew from Dave, glancing down and back up at him again. He could tell that she was searching for a way to tell him. "It's him, isn't it?"

She sighed and nodded. His hands dropped to his side and then he turned away. She rushed into the bathroom to button her shirt back up and put a cool washcloth to her burning cheeks. They were growing redder by the second and the cold water was doing nothing to help. Taking deep, shuddering breaths and cursing her luck at losing her husband, she tried to rid her mind of him and find the gumption to step back out into the room.

"I…I'm sorry," she whispered to his back as he stared out the balcony door. "I…you have to understand. I haven't been with a guy since…"

"I know…I mean, I understand," he replied, turning around. He took her by the hands, led her to the foot of the bed, and pulled her down to sit beside him. "I shouldn't have pushed you so quickly."

"Oh, Dave, you didn't. I wanted—I _want _to be with you so badly but it's just that…"

"I know, I said. It doesn't mean I have to like it," he replied with a half-smile. He piled the pillows up at the head board and propped up. "Come here, pum'kin," he said, motioning towards her and laying her head down in his lap. "You know you can talk to me about anything?" She nodded as his fingers combed through her hair. "Just so you know…"

"You're too good for me…you're too good for anyone…" she replied, reaching up to cup his cheek.

Dave wanted to laugh as that comment. It was taking all of his willpower not to throw her down and take her at that moment. He wasn't mad at her but very frustrated. That's not to mention how much backstage politics he had been involved in lately and that her name had been included.

* * *

The mood of the entire backstage staff seemed to be a bit gloomy, even for a house show. Cheryl nodded and waved at those she had met, still making an effort to connect and dispel the idea that she was stuck-up. She entered the lockerroom to find a somber Lita quietly talking to a red-faced Trish. "Did McMahon sell the company and I didn't get the memo?" she asked and dropped her bag on the floor. 

"Yeah, you apparently didn't get the memo because he sold his soul," Trish sarcastically replied, angrily rising and stalking off to the bathroom.

"What…"

"Nidia and Gail were released this past week," Lita explained. "We didn't find out until we got here."

Cheryl glanced around. "Victoria?"

"No, I called her a few minutes ago," the other woman replied, running her hands through her hair and propping her head in her palms. "She's just running late."

"Nidia and…and Gail the only ones?"

Lita shook her head and listed out the other eight wrestlers released. "Nidia's not answering her phone. I don't think she wants to talk to anybody right now. Can't blame her," she explained.

"I can't believe this," Cheryl murmured and sank down to one of the benches.

"Believe it, sister, because rumor has that two more wrestlers are being released."

"It c-could be any of us…" the newer diva trailed off and Lita nodded in reply.

Trish stormed back into the room and bit out, "Oh, what have you got to worry about? Dave's nose is so far up Triple H's ass, there's no way they'll fire you."

Lita, always cool and level-headed, narrowed her eyes and smartly replied, "As if Babe of the Year would be fired."

"Like they'd fire the mother of Kane's baby!" she hotly retorted.

"I know you didn't say that!" an angry Lita shouted. Words were about to fly when the lockerroom door opened and in flounced Maria, the fourth runner-up in the diva contest, the classy one that flipped the crowd off for voting her out.

"Afternoon, ladies," she chirped.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Trish ground out.

"I start on Monday as an interviewer. I was told to find Lita and Stacy to show me the ropes during the house show."

"Wasn't that what you were supposed to be doing when you were a contestant?" Trish snapped.

"They never let us hang out with you guys," Maria replied with cow eyes, all a ploy to make them feel bad for her. She jerked around when the door opened again to find Victoria staring her down from behind.

"What's she doing here?" the dark-haired beauty irritably asked.

"I'm the new interview—" She trailed off as four pairs of eyes glared at her. "Well, I hope Michelle and Amy find the SmackDown! lockerroom nicer!"

"What did you say?" Victoria moved in front of the girl as she tried to leave.

The brunette tossed her hair back and straightened as high as she could. "Michelle is RVD's new trainer and Amy's JBL's new image consultant…oh, wait, and Joy, too. She's Carlito's massage therapist."

"Oh, hell, no!" Cheryl announced, finding the ability to speak and move again after learning of Nidia's release. She pushed past everyone in the dressing room and stormed out the door.

"Cheryl, where are you go—"

She didn't hear the rest of Lita's question as she stalked down the hall. Dave noticed her and headed over but she held up a hand. "I'm on a mission. Don't stop me or I'll lose my nerve," she said and continued on.

"Is this about Nidia?" he shouted after her.

She whirled around on him. "You knew about Nidia?"

"Not until I got here today," he said apologetically.

"Where' s Hunter?"

"Cheryl, don't—"

"Where's Hunter?" she shouted.

"I'm right here," he said, emerging from a lockerroom with Evolution's name on the door.

"How could you let this happen?" Cheryl demanded.

"What?"

"Nidia, Gail, Test, Jazz—" she said, ticking their names off on her fingers.

"Wait, I don't have as much power as everybody thinks I do."

"Puh-lease, spare me."

"Listen," he angrily replied, pulling her inside the lockerroom as Batista followed, "I couldn't stop them from firing wrestlers."

"How could you—"

"Your name came up," Helmsley nonchalantly said. Her jaw dropped and her stomach began to squirm. He glanced at Batista who had followed them in and then looked back at her. "I argued for you…obviously for Dave's sake."

"But-but you said you had no power…" she trailed off, angry tears beginning to form.

"Hunter," Batista warned.

Triple H sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Sit down," he said. When she didn't move, he growled the command again. She dropped like a stone into the nearest chair.

"Vince was going to fire ten mid-carders no matter what. He had already picked out most of them and then asked my opinion about the rest. When I refused to give him one, he threatened me." He stopped at the look from her. "I know, I know, I'm his son-in-law, what's he gonna do to me?" he sarcastically said and then continued. "My life would be hell. I agreed to _help _choose if he told me who he was considering." He sighed, loosened his tie further as if to relieve pressure, and then continued. "Do you know how hard it is to pick who to fire just because Creative can't come up with a storyline for them and the fact that we're not meeting budget? He places the draw for RAW on my shoulders and there's only so much I can do."

Cheryl watched the turmoil on his face and sort of felt sorry for him. Yet, she knew he had more power than he was willing to admit but the rest she believed to be truth. However, she remembered the reason for her tirade. "That's great and all but, if we're so under budget, then why the hell hire six of the diva contestants? Why spend that much money on them when you could have kept good wrestlers?"

"I honestly didn't know about the plan to hire them at the time. I'd get rid of all women in wrestling if I could—all women that aren't wrestling," he corrected, seeing her glare. There was no way he was going to tell her that the six women hired weren't the last of the diva contestants to be brought on board.

"Do something about them! Get rid of them and hire some of those wrestlers back," she suggested, her voice rising in pitch.

"Cheryl, you know I can't."

She did but she had to say it and something else. "Why can't you listen to the fans and see what they want instead of firing popular wrestlers and hiring women that no one really cares about?"

"Cheryl," he sternly said her name. "I agree with Dave, you have potential. That's why I dismissed your name when it came up. Don't criticize the wrong people or you could be the next one cut. Don't put yourself on thin ice."

Heat flooded throughout her face and she was at a loss to continue arguing and quickly stood with a glare to stalk out. As the door closed, she heard Dave say, "I said to keep my name out of it."

Cheryl was on a roll for standing up for herself and her coworkers, so she crossed her arms and waited for Batista to come out. "Keep your name out of it, huh?" she quietly asked when he appeared. "You knew about the firings?"

"Yeah, I knew," he said, staring at the floor.

"Why couldn't you tell me?"

"You know when I said I had a lot on my plate last week?" When she nodded, he continued. "If you want to stay in the good graces of those in power, you have to play backstage politics. I knew they were going to release a lot of people. I know Hunter fairly well but I wanted to make sure my job was secure. When I found out who they were gunning for, I was worried you would go too."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"It's not about skill. It's about who they can afford to let go and we all know that the majority of the wrestling world doesn't care about women's wrestling. I thought you'd be safe but I played the politics for you. What you did in there will get you fired in a heartbeat. You could have wiped out everything I did for you."

"I don't need you to stand up for me. I can obviously do it myself," she replied, gesturing toward the lockerroom and wondering if Hunter had heard any of their conversation.

"Cheryl, I—"

"The least you could have done," she interrupted, holding up a hand to stop him, "was tell me what was going on since it involved _me._" She walked off, leaving Batista speechless and wondering why he hadn't trusted her with what he was doing.

Completely spent from her rage, Cheryl slouched back to the lockerroom to be met by a divided room, full of tension. Stacy, Carmella, Christy, and Maria attempted to converse with each other while they primped but the deadly glances and the deathly silence from Lita, Victoria, and Trish were starting to be a damper on the party.

"What happened?" Trish expectantly asked.

Cheryl shook her head. "I basically got threatened for standing up," she whispered and sank into a chair. She related the incident to the other three where the primp club couldn't hear.

Lita patted her on the knee. "I could have told you that. Let it go and think of it as a learning moment." Cheryl rolled her eyes but nodded her head. "Dave's got a point. Don't be mad at him."

"I know, I know, I've been thinking about that…When someone gets hold of Nidia, let me know."

"Yeah," Lita replied, "we should probably call Gail and Jazz too."

Glancing over at the bubbly blonde, a thought struck Cheryl. "How can she act like that if they released Test?"

"I think Nidia said they broke up a couple of weeks ago. She dumped him or something. I don't remember," Victoria answered.

"Sucks to be Test," Trish muttered. "But then again, he is rid of _her._" She spit out the last word venomously.

Cheryl murmured her agreement and leaned back into her folding chair. When she began to think about what she had just done, her legs started to go numb and her stomach to roil. She was never confrontational but, here she was, gunning after anybody who pissed her off. The shy woman had stood up to Stacy, done what almost every WWE employee wanted regarding Triple H, and then questioned the intentions of the guy she was dating. The place was doing something to her that she didn't know what to do with.

No one had been able to get through to any of the released divas by the end of the show and by the time Cheryl hunted Batista down to apologize. She tentatively knocked on his hotel door and Randy Orton answered it. "Hi, is, uh, is Dave in?" she hesitantly asked.

"Yeah," he answered and then called back into the room, "Cheryl's here to see you." He gestured for her to come in and then picked up his wallet, sliding it into his back pocket. "I'll catch you guys later," he said and slipped out while the two awkwardly glanced at each other.

When the door shut, Cheryl immediately apologized. "I shouldn't have jumped onto you like that. I guess I was too upset about almost being released that I didn't realize you cared enough to, you know…"

"It's okay because I have to apologize to you too." She raised her eyebrows in question and he continued. "I should have trusted you enough to tell you what was going on. Trust is too important to break."

"Then I think we're even."

"Well, I won't lie—you made me mad but what's the point in being angry when we can make-up," he said with grin but added the last suggestively.

"I like that," she replied, closing the distance between them and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Dave held her tight, his mouth descending on hers and making her weak in the knees. Cheryl thoroughly regretted that she had to leave. "I have to go. With everything that's happened, we're calling an emergency _girls'_ meeting to deal with them hiring the diva contestants."

He groaned in disappointment but stole another long kiss and squeezed her butt when she pulled away. She laughed against his neck, kissed his ear, and stepped out of his embrace. "You know, maybe we should get together this week," she paused in thought, "You could change your flight and we can fly into Hilton Head together and then fly to the house show together on Friday. What d'you think?"

"I think it would be great," he replied, leaning in toward her again.

She gave him a light kiss. "If I don't leave now, we'll be here all night."

"And there's a problem with that?" he seductively asked. She only laughed and let herself out.

TBC…

**

* * *

Author's Notes:** To any Nidia fans, don't panic—she's not gone for good, hee, hee, hee. 

If anybody's looking for something to read, I posted my one-shot Triple H piece—_Beyond the Nights_—right before the servers went down. I'm not sure if very many people got the e-mail alert because of that. Well, anyhow, moving on from the shameless plug…


	10. Candles, Wine, and Strawberries

_**Chapter X: Candles, Wine, and Strawberries**_

The tension was so thick Monday night that it could be cut with a knife. The "idiot triplets," so named with the addition of Maria and spurred by the diva contestant song, stayed out of the other half of the lockerroom's way. For the most part, they couldn't be found by the women wrestlers but were, of course, easily found by the crew. Lita and Trish were grateful to have a third competent woman to work with as the two of them and Cheryl worked through their spots for the night. Lita was getting her rematch against Trish for the belt because of the disqualification. Cherry Leigh was still out to get Trish with a vengeance for attacking her and the redhead would be interfering again, this time to ensure a win for Lita.

The next evening, the daughter of Cheryl's next door neighbor picked her and Dave up at the airport. Cheryl paid the teenager for picking her up and dropping her off and for watching over the house when the girl was available. The sun-bleached blonde couldn't take her eyes off the handsome dark-haired man and Cheryl wondered how long it would take for the gossip to spread.

Aimee dropped them off and immediately tried to help Dave with his luggage. Cheryl nodded at him to let the sixteen-year-old do it. She remembered when she was once that age. However, she then had to practically kick the girl out the door. After a quick tour of the house, Cheryl showed Dave into the guest room she asked Aimee to freshen up. He glanced around the dusky blue room, decorated with a lighthouse and beach motif. "It was my room when I stayed with my grandparents." She paused for a moment. "The other guest room was mine an-and Pierce's. The studio is my room now. It was my—"

"Shh," he replied, putting a finger to her lips and giving her a kiss. "I don't care," he half-lied but not willing to tell her that he was curious to know if she still slept in the same bed that she had shared with her husband.

Cheryl smiled at him and then asked, "Do you wanna get a shower before we go out and find supper? There's nothing in the refrigerator. We'll have to pick up some groceries for the next few days." When he nodded, she closed the bedroom door behind her to give him some privacy and then she headed back downstairs to check her messages before cleaning up herself.

After throwing his luggage on the bed, Dave started to strip when his cell phone rang. "What?" he answered.

"What did she have to say?"

"Edge," he replied in an annoyed tone. "I don't like you and I don't particularly care for you dating any of my friends but, yeah, I think Leila likes you."

"Dude, you are so awesome," Edge responded.

"_Dude,_" Batista mocked. "Piss off."

"I'll leave you alone if you'll give me her number."

"Ask her yourself."

"You know," Edge replied, as if pondering a great mystery. "I just realized that I never got an apology from you."

"And you're never going to," Batista replied as if he had found the answer to that great mystery.

"And I'm gonna hound you until—"

Dave's laughing interrupted him. "You're just too scared to ask Leila yourself."

"I promise to leave you alone if you'll just give me her number," Edge pleaded.

"Hold on," Batista replied and rifled through his bags until he found his appointment book that had his addresses and phone numbers. Spying Leila's, he read it off to the other wrestler and hung up without another word. A cooling shower was definitely what he needed now.

Cheryl was still bathing when Dave finished and he wondered back downstairs and through the central hall to study the paintings he had noticed during the quick tour, each one signed 'CIL' or 'CLE'. Taking a turn through the kitchen and dining room, he perused the ones in those rooms and then the ones on the stairs. All seemed to be different parts of the island and her grandparents' summer home in the various seasons. He was almost positive they were done by Cheryl, only recently learning her middle name was Inez. "Did you paint all of these?" he asked from the middle landing of the stairs as a way to prod her to tell him about them when he heard her come out into upstairs hall.

"Yeah," she called down, coming back to the balustrade in her robe and running her fingers through her short strands of hair so they would begin to dry. "There are more in the guest room and my room, if-if you want to see them, that is."

She disappeared back into her room and handed him a photo album. "I've been painting for about seven years. I didn't really start until after I graduated. I take a picture of each one I do before I give it away or hang it up. Helps me keep up with what I've done and when I did it. My first ones are in the front and the last ones I've done are in the back," she pointed out as they headed towards her room.

Dave stood before the two that were in studio. One was completed and set in the corner on an easel, waiting for a frame. The other was half-completed beside a table of supplies. These canvases held bright colors with several anonymous people and one was a fall depiction. She quietly emerged from her walk-in closet, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, surprising him as he studied the oils. When he asked about them, she only pointed out that fall was her favorite season and how much she loved Maine during that time.

She disappeared into her bathroom and left him in her studio to peruse the album. As he flipped through the pages, Dave started to notice a pattern. Many people were in the paintings she had done before she had married but there was only a couple depicted in spring scenes after she married. Then they drastically changed after Pierce died. If there was anyone in them, it was a lone person in bleak scenes of winter or storms. Now, the paintings were changing again.

Dave glanced up at her as she moved out onto the studio's balcony, carrying a painted pitcher. After Cheryl watered the callalily she had taken outside to repot last week, she perched on the edge of a lounge chair to watch the waves roll in under brilliant stars. She could smell his aftershave as he softly came up behind her and began to massage her shoulders. When he finally stopped, he came around to stand in front of her and fingered the callalily on the railing. "I'm sort of a gardener," he said in a self-deprecating tone and leaned on the balustrade.

"You make it sound like it's a bad thing."

"I'm a guy, a big…scary guy who plays in the dirt…and I can't get any flowers to grow."

Cheryl wasn't going to lie to him. He had a point in her opinion. She closed her eyes to inhale the salt sea and enjoy the gently rolling waves but opened them when she felt his gaze still on her. "What?" she asked.

"Nothing."

She blushed and said the first thing that came to mind. "Why do you think you can't grow anything?"

"It's not that I can't grow _anything. _I just can't grow flowers. If it's green and doesn't bloom, I can do it. Even if it's almost dead, I can bring it back to life." Dave slightly laughed and then continued. "When I first moved into my neighborhood, I had some of the guys over as way of introducing myself and, when they found out I had apartment flower boxes to grow herbs and vines and what not, they made fun of me. They _said_ they weren't laughing at me but I knew better."

"Wait, are they bigger than you? Because if they ain't, they're stupid."

"Well, they didn't laugh but I could tell it in the tone of their voices," Dave said, then chuckled. "You should have seen the look on these guys' faces when I invited them and their wives over and gave everybody a big basket of vines or callalilies to take home. Their wives loved it and I still get the occasional call about the plants."

"You sly devil, you," she said, winking at him.

"I'm not _as_ stupid as I look," he replied with a facetious grin and settled down beside her on the chaise lounge.

Dave began to run his fingers across her cheek, down her neck, and then traced her collarbone. Cheryl took in a deep breath and her grip tightened on his arm as his tongue dipped into the hollow of her throat. He raised his head to find her mouth and she could see the sensual haze beginning to fill his eyes. "We need to get some supper. I'm starving," she said, slipping away from him. She was still so nervous about sleeping with him and wanted the moment to be perfect—candles, wine, strawberries… She regretted the disappointment on his face but headed back through the studio and down the stairs.

Cheryl took Dave to one of the local, homegrown seafood restaurants. As much as they enjoyed the meal at the time, they wished differently as they slogged down the grocery store aisles to pick up food for the next few days since Cheryl rarely stocked her refrigerator with more than the few things she would need for the little time she was home. The day had been long and the meal more than filling, so they hardly attempted to hide how tired they were when both starting yawning over and over during a TV movie they had found. Dave kissed her 'goodnight' at her door but she couldn't go to bed yet despite the sleepiness. She stood on her balcony, leaning up against one posts, and absorbed the peaceful scent and sound of home. When her eyes would no longer stay open, she peeked down the hall to see Dave's light off and then crawled into bed herself.

* * *

A choked scream ripped from Cheryl's throat when a heavy weight bounced on her bed. "What are we doing today, pum'kin?" a grinning Dave asked as she shielded her eyes from the morning light. 

"Don't scare me like that," she said, struggling up, and then muttered, "I need a cat."

"What for?"

"So I can blame everything on the cat instead of getting the crap scared out of me. I can't recall the last time someone woke me up like that."

"Sorry," he replied. "I'll try something more…quieter…" He tried to steal a kiss but she scrambled off the bed and into the bedroom for a toothbrush. He may not have had morning breath but she wasn't as stupid to think that she didn't.

"I guess I can show you around the island," Cheryl called from the bathroom. "You'll have to come back after Thanksgiving when the place is decorated." Running a brush through her hair, she came back into the bedroom to notice that Dave was already dressed for the day. "Unless you don't object to this," she said, picking at her oversized UNC t-shirt, "I need to get dressed."

"Sorry, I couldn't sleep once the sun came up. Do you want me to let you go back to the bed?" he asked, apologetically.

"No, let me get ready and we'll be off."

The two spent most of the day in Cheryl's favorite spots on the island and a few shops. Dave was adorable as he attempted to explain that he wanted to take his parents, sister, and niece something back from Hilton Head the next time he went home. The sun was close to setting when they finally arrived back at the house.

Cheryl insisted on a walk on the beach and they clasped hands as they strolled across the white sand, the two soaking up the pink and orange rays turning to a purple and then black sky as thick rain clouds began to drift in. Little was spoken between them as the sexual tension began to rise simply from touching palms and the change of weather. When she shut the beach house door behind them and locked it, Dave pushed her up against the wall and began devouring her mouth, his hands wondering over her body.

The candles and wine briefly flitted across her mind as he pulled back to look at her. "This okay?" he huskily asked. She hungrily nodded and he pulled her to him. Just when she thought her knees would buckle from sheer pleasure, he scooped her up into his arms.

"I have wine in the frig," she muttered against his lips and he backed up to let her pull it out. She shut the door and he started for the stairs again. "Oh, and strawberries, too," she added and he headed back to the refrigerator.

"Mmm, tasty, but I'd like some cherries," he responded when she popped one in his mouth. She throatily laughed at his suggestion.

Halfway to the stairs, her arms filled with the red fruit and a chilled bottle and his arms filled with her, she stopped him again. "We need glasses."

Dave exhaled loudly without meaning too but he could care less about wine and strawberries at the moment. Shifting his grip on her, he started back for the kitchen. "You know what, screw it," she said, starting to feel the same way, and shoved the items onto the first part of the countertop they came to. _I'm trying to, _Dave thought. After that, he wasted no time in attempting to get upstairs to her bedroom.

On the landing, her long legs caught the balustrade and they giggled against each other but straightened up with one kiss. However, while navigating the turn at the top of the stairs fairly well, he smacked his shoulder on the bedroom door frame. "I can walk," she laughed.

"We're already here," he replied and echoed her laugh but stumbled over a shoe, sending them toppling onto the bed.

"Is this a sign?" Cheryl snickered.

"God, I hope not," Dave chuckled and they both collapsed into a fit of giggles.

A gust of wind flinging rain against the balcony doors startled them and they were quickly aware of their need again, which had only been put off for the moment by the humor of the situation. Cheryl couldn't stop the moan his hot mouth elicited as his tongue found the hollow in her throat. Dave then began to undo each of her buttons, kissing her lips and then her neck, until he exposed her satin bra. He wanted to make this as easy for her as he could by going slow but the control he had exercised over the weeks abruptly came to a halt. He pulled her to him in a deep kiss that left her breathless and she began to sense his urgency.

Cheryl helped him pull his shirt off and ran her hands over every inch of his uncovered body while he deftly unclasped her bra. She couldn't get enough of his hard chest until his hands found her breasts and all else was forgotten. She could only hold on for dear life to the blanket in fistfuls as his mouth and hands on her breasts turned her into a quivering mass. When Dave moved to undo her jeans, she let out the breath she had been holding and raised her hips for him to slide them off. She rose from the bed and tugged at his own jeans. When they were a distant memory, the two knelt in front of each other, flesh on flesh raising goosebumps and his need pressing into her lower belly.

Dave laid her down on the pillows and trailed his hand down her stomach to the apex of her thighs, all the while his mouth on hers. She gasped as his fingers found her ready and he grinned a sexy smile. "Do I need to get _something_?" he whispered.

"No, it's all taken care of," she replied through clenched teeth as his hand continued to play between her thighs.

Nothing had prepared her for this, for him, as he slid inside her. She wrapped her legs around him and shifted to allow him to go deeper. He moaned as she opened up to receive all of him. She didn't realize how much she had missed sex as their hips came together over and over in a rhythm that naturally came back to her. He finally cried out and collapsed on top of her as the waves of pleasure began to ripple from her center to her fingertips and toes. Both lay together, gulping for air while their bodies soaked up the intense pleasure of the aftermath and their tingling nerves began to settle down.

When Cheryl thought Dave had drifted off to sleep, she disentangled her bodyfrom his, wrapped a blanket around herself, and slipped out on the balcony, listening to the last drops of rain on the roof. The dark-haired man watched her out of the slit of one eye until she shut the door behind her. He had known that there were three people in the room when she wouldn't relax against him in the aftermath. He had tried to soothe her with soft strokes across her stomach and hips. Pretending to sleep, he then thought she might settle against him but it was then that she had slipped out of bed. Tomorrow they would talk because he couldn't compete with a dead man.

TBC…

**

* * *

Author's Notes:**

A concern was why Cheryl would get cut so soon. I mentioned McMahon talking about cuttingher because he cut awesome people like Nidia, and I don't have to name the rest. If he cuts them, why not chunk the recent hire instead of the tried and true? I wonder if Cheryl would have got cut with or without her relationship with Dave. Maybe Triple H was saying all that because she was crazy enough to confront him… Well, we'll never know, will we:) 

A special thanks to all my readers andto my reviewers: RKOThug21, Latisha C, huntersgirl, Insane Zula, shannfan14, Kora Flair, kiss316, WandaXmaximoff, LeelooJinn, coors 1977, lucyzigg, LovinRKO, Shiyu-Inuyahsa, J3r1ch0h0lic4eva, shady-angel821, Moi, SexySuitcase, cassy7, and Zanna Avons.


	11. News, News, and More News

_**Chapter XI: News, News, and More News**_

Dave woke to the smells of bacon drifting up the stairs. Glancing over at the still empty side of bed to which she had never returned, he groaned at what he had to do today. After a quick shower, he found Cheryl in the kitchen, finishing up scrambled eggs. She beamed a smile and set a full plate a food in front of him at the bar. "Good mornin', honey," she said, pouring a glass of orange juice.

He felt guilty for eating breakfast with her and hiding what he had to say but he couldn't argue over a meal with the woman who cooked it for him. Clearing the bar for her, he started to approach the problem. "We need to talk," he said, realizing how ironic it was that she was wearing polar bear houseshoes and a robe with penguins on it, two animals that would never meet because they were on opposite ends of the world.

"About what, honey?" she asked, putting the used cooking utensils into the dishwasher.

"Last night," he bluntly stated.

"You were wonderful last night," she replied, sliding her arms around his waist and kissing his neck.

Memories of her soft body pressed against his hardly made it easy to push her away. "Not wonderful enough." When she furrowed her brow, he continued. "Cheryl, I love you but I'm fighting for _your _love with Pierce."

"Pierce is dead," she replied, knitting her brows together, completely missing his confession of love.

"And that's the problem. Cheryl, you have to let him go," Dave firmly remarked.

"But I have," she protested.

"No, you haven't. Remember Houston when you—we didn't—"

"I already told you why," she interrupted.

"And is that the same reason now—the same reason the two of us weren't the only ones in the room? Is that the way it's always going to be with us?" he asked, his voice beginning to grow intense.

"But I gave myself to you last night," Cheryl whimpered, completely astounded as to what was happening between them. "I never told you this but my husband was the only man I every made love to, well, not counting you."

"_I _made love to you last night. _You _had sex. There's a difference," he pointed out, more angrily than she thought necessary. Cheryl blustered for a moment, trying to find a reply. "Am I some kind of play to you? Are we—is our relationship some kind of stage that you're acting on to prove a point?"

"How dare you," she seethed. "I let you in on how I perform and you throw that up in my face!"

Dave sank down on the barstool and rubbed his hands over his face, deciding to finally make his point, no matter how hard it hurt. "The point is that _he_'s still very much a part of you because you never had the chance to let him go, to say 'goodbye.' I know, because my dad went through the same thing with my mother. You may have been bodily present for the funeral but you weren't emotionally there…You still use your married name. You've not been married for over two years now and you're not even thirty yet but you still have his name, wear his ring. Do you _not_ want to move on? You act like he's a martyr and you're giving him all this hero worship. He's just another man. Let him go." He ran a hand over his hair and tore his gaze from the slack-jawed woman. She wasn't sure she had just heard what had come out of his mouth. She was in such shock she couldn't think to correct him about the gold ring. After a couple of moments of intense silence, he finally looked back up at her, slipped from the barstool, and reached for her hand. "It comes down to this. Cheryl," he softly said, "I love you. Can you say that to me?"

"I-I…" she began but couldn't say it and pulled her hand away. His argument had her floored. She didn't think any of it was true. Her entire life and love was torn out from under her that one day and he was expecting her to act as if it never happened. She couldn't tell a man saying such things to her that she loved him. It would take more than a few months of dating and a roll in the hay to completely give her love to another. How dare he ask her to say that, especially after accusing her of faking their relationship?

"When you can move on, when you can love me, you know where I'm at," he softly said, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and then gently kissed her forehead. When he walked away to retrieve his luggage, Cheryl rushed out onto the beach and collapsed onto the sand, wrapping her arms around her knees. She let the tears pour out as the drizzle of rain from the storm front began to soak into her clothes.

When she had cried the argument out, the redhead rose, brushed off the wet sand, and returned to the house. Calling Dave's name, she searched for him but found his luggage gone from the guest room. Tears threatened again but there was nothing left. All she could do was go about her normal routine and prepare to leave for the house show on the next day. _He'll call when he's ready to apologize, _Cheryl thought, wiping at her nose and peeling out of her wet robe to start the laundry.

* * *

"I just got off the phone with Nidia," Victoria announced, waving her cellphone as Cheryl dropped her gym bag in a cubbyhole. 

"Is she okay? I told you those flowers would work," Cheryl said and quickly sat down facing the senior diva. The four women had called Nidia for three days straight, leaving messages each time. After that, they decided to let Victoria try alone. When that didn't work, Cheryl suggested flowers, something Nidia couldn't ignore.

"Yeah, she's fine now, sort of. She sends her apologies for not returning our calls but, she was just so depressed, she didn't wanna talk to anyone. But," Victoria suddenly said the conjunction and glanced around at the other three women gathered to her what she had to say. "It's all good!"

"And exactly how is that?" Trish asked sarcastically.

"She and Eric are going to have a baby!" she excitedly proclaimed.

"Oh my gosh!"

"You're kidding!"

"Awesome!"

As the chorus of surprise and excitement died down, Victoria continued. "She's only six weeks along and just found out. So, she would've quit anyhow since she didn't want to do anything to put the baby in danger and y'all know how things can get around here."

"Can we call her?" Lita asked.

"Yeah, she's been at Eric's house since she was fired but she's back home now. So, she said she'd love to hear from us. Oh, Cheryl, she really wants to know what's up with you and Dave."

With such exciting news, Cheryl had no intention of saying a word about her and Dave's fight to put any kind of damper on Nidia's revelation. Besides, in her opinion, Dave only needed to think things over. When he was done attempting to prove his skewed point, he'd call and apologize. She was the one doing all the apologizing and now it was his turn. "I'll give her a call tomorrow," the redhead replied.

The house show went off without a hitch and Cheryl and Dave never crossed paths. Fortunately, Cheryl was the odd woman out again and had the hotel room to herself. No one bothered her, assuming that she and Dave were engaged otherwise. At least she wouldn't have to find other things to occupy her time to keep from having to tell them that she and Dave were on the rocks. The hard part would be pulling the wool over Nidia's eyes.

Now that Cheryl knew the brunette was taking calls, she was eager to put aside her problems and concentrate on her friend's.

"Cheryl!" Nidia pretty much shouted in answer.

She hated when people relied solely on callerID when answering their phones. What was so wrong with a simple 'hello?' "Hey, Nidia. Congratulations!"

"On what—losing my job or having a boy?"

"You already know what it is?" Cheryl asked in astonishment.

"My honey's all man. He couldn't father a girl if he wanted to." She couldn't help but laugh at Nidia's response. "How are you, chica?"

"I should be asking that of you."

"I'm gonna be fine. The worst is over…I think," the brunette replied, slightly trailing off.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"We're eloping at Thanksgiving and I'm so nervous. I'm not embarrassed that I'm pregnant, but I really wanna get married before I start showing. I mean, who wants pictures of them looking like a whale in a wedding dress _but _I don't want my baby born after I'm married."

"You're going to the courthouse to get married?" the redhead asked, surprised that Nidia wouldn't want a huge wedding.

"Isn't that what you do when you elope?"

"There's Las Vegas."

"Oooo…" the former wrestler replied in deep thought.

"Nidia, have you ever thought of getting married on the beach?"

"Oh, that would be so lovely!" she exclaimed.

"Do you _wanna_ get married at my house Thanksgiving weekend? There's no house shows this coming weekend and I'm sure Cathy would do it on such short notice… Wait, are you any particular denomination?"

"I was christened in the Catholic Church," Nidia explained, "but Eric's not Catholic, so we can't get married in the Church anyhow."

"Good, Cathy's Episcopalian. She's a great friend. We'll need to borrow Sandra's gazebo…" Cheryl began but was interrupted.

"Won't it be too cold?"

"Nah, so you have to wear a long-sleeve gown—oh, we have to get you a dress!"

"Hold on, hold on," Nidia responded, trying to suppress her laughter but failing. "I have to make sure it's alright with Eric."

"So, you wanna do it?"

"Are you kidding, girl?" Nidia declared and Cheryl could just see her slapping her hand on her hip and cocking her head.

"Well, let's start planning now. Do you think your parents'll come? I could probably house just the wedding party at my beach house but I can get a great discount for everyone else at a hotel that's close."

"Slow down, chica," the brunette ordered, still chuckling. "I've talked enough about me. How are you doin'?"

"Fine, just fine."

"It doesn't sound fine," Nidia replied in her best motherly voice. It wasn't too soon to start practicing.

"I'm really tired and with the shake-up backstage…" As if on cue, Cheryl emitted a yawn.

"Dave keeping you up?"

The redhead laughed over the irony. Yeah, Dave was keeping her up alright, but it wasn't in the way she would have preferred. "You could say that."

"How's everybody with all the cuts?"

"Morale's down but what can you expect? Everybody's praying they're not the next one. I almost was," Cheryl said with a slight chuckle.

"What _did _you do?" Nidia gasped.

"I gave Triple H an earful."

"You better start talking now…"

* * *

"You and Dave are getting married!" Victoria screeched upon entering the lockerroom. Cheryl stared up blankly through her wire rims at the other woman from where she was seated in a folding chair she had turned around backwards and was using the backrest as a prop for her chin. "Let me see the ring!" 

"Oh, no, no, no," Cheryl managed to get out, realizing what Victoria must be thinking. She had three thick brides' magazines spread out on the bench and was making notes for Nidia and Eric's wedding on a yellow legal pad. She had less than a week to pull it off. "Th-this is for Nidia."

Victoria's mouth fell open. "Come again?"

As Cheryl began to explain her conversation with the bride-to-be, Lita entered the room and she had to begin again.

"This is so exciting!" Victoria exclaimed.

"What do you want us to do?" Lita asked, glancing over Cheryl's notes.

"I am _so _glad you wanna help," the other redhead replied and began explaining where she was at in the process. While Nidia wanted something small because of budget, Cheryl decided that, if a few other people pitched in, they could easily surprise her. The other ladies were quickly on board.

The rest of RAW was just as easy as the past house show, thankfully, except for the reworking of storylines. With the firing of two of their major female heels, the creative team had to quickly rework feuds to cover their asses for the mistake. The promise Cheryl was made by Creative about her turning heel in the distant future was broken. The feud with Trish was nixed and now she and Lita were officially feuding, which would lead to her official turn. From there, she and Trish would make up and then be the bitches of wrestling against Lita, Victoria, and Stacy.

Cheryl only shrugged her shoulders at this news. There was nothing she could do about it, so why get riled up over it? Anyhow, she preferred playing the bad girl but wanted to get established with the hopes of a fan following before she turned, hoping that following wouldn't go away. It hardly mattered now if she wanted to keep her job. So, she found herself face to face with Lita, who was expressing her anger at costing her the first match and daring to interfere again.

"That's the thanks I get for winning the belt for you?" Cherry Leigh demanded.

"You only did that to get back at Trish. Do you think I'm that stupid?" Lita replied, pointing a finger in the other woman's red jacket.

"If the shoe fits…"

"If the shoe fits…" the women's champ echoed and snorted. "You're just like your brother, using other people to get what you want. Just go play with Triple H and stay out of my business."

"Leave Hunter out of this," Cherry Leigh shouted and jerked Lita back around as she tried to walk off. The camera faded to commercial as the two redheads began to scuffle.

"Y'all going to Matt's for Thanksgiving?" Cheryl asked, helping Lita up from where she had landed during the fight.

"No, this year it's with my family. How 'bout you? You and Dave gotten to the point of introducing each other to your family?"

"Not yet," Cheryl replied nonchalantly. "With my brother's track record of girlfriends, I'd rather wait until we're more serious."

"Oh," Lita replied, "and when is that?"

"You sound like Nidia."

"Only in the way of being nosy and not in the family way?" Lita asked facetiously.

"C'mon. When are you and Matt gonna settle down?" the other woman asked, holding the lockerroom door open for her.

She sighed in reply. "I don't know but I'm not ready to take a break from wrestling to have children."

* * *

Dave's cellphone rang as he rolled the dice for his turn. Pulling it out and counting spaces on the Monopoly board at the same time, he disappointedly noticed that the call was from Edge and stuffed the phone back in his pocket to ignore him. "You landed on Community Chest! Ha, ha!" one of his cousins exclaimed. "Better hope it ain't bad!" Zach continued in a sing song voice. 

"_You_ better hope it ain't, little man," Dave replied and flipped over the card as the phone rang again. "I just won second place in a beauty pageant," he announced and slyly checked the callerID…Edge, again.

"I think it should be first," his six-year-old niece, Alexandra, shyly remarked and leaned up against his shoulder.

"Thank you, baby," he said, ruffling her fluffy black hair. "You can play my turn until I get back, okay?" She nodded and plopped down in his place as he answered the phone.

"What?" Dave growled as he stepped out on the deck. "Man, I told you she said she had a great time. She said some things about you I never wanted to know…For god's sake, yes, call the woman…Do you not have family? I do and I've held up my end of the bargain, so hold up yours and leave me alone…You have a great butt, supersoft hair, and you are the best kisser out of anyone she's ever kissed. Now, _leave me alone_!"

Iris Batista only heard Dave's side of the call as she stepped outside to hand her stepson a cup of coffee. He looked like he was fading fast as he played the boardgame with the kids. Leave it up to children to attach to the biggest, scariest man in the room, ala Mr. T. "I think that's a conversation I'm not sure I wanted to hear—great butt and supersoft hair?"

"Funny thing to say about the guy you attacked because he was dating the girl you wanted, huh?"

"Cheryl?" Dave nodded and she continued, "She's not called?"

"No," he sighed. "I just assumed that once she thought about what I said, it'd all sink in and she'd call by now."

"Isn't she putting together her friend's wedding this weekend? It's hard to concentrate on anything else with something so big."

Dave's mouth fell open and then he replied, "I mentioned that?"

"There's not a thing you haven't mentioned about her. But I am wondering—am I the only one you've told about the break-up? That's about all you've not said about her to everyone else."

"It's not a break-up but, to answer your question, yeah…Should _I_ call _her_?"

"Dave, I think you did the right thing. You know I know that with your father. Yeah, you could have kept some of those comments to yourself but she's got to be the one to realize what's going on inside of her." She paused to take a sip of her coffee. "Honey, there's not much more you can say. Time will heal her wounds…and you'll be the first thing she'll want."

"Time? How much time?"

Iris shook her head. "I don't know, honey. A week, a month, who knows?"

"It's been a _week_! It's killing me. I'll be a wreck in a _month_!"

His stepmother soothingly rubbed a hand up and down his back. "If she's the woman you say she is, she'll come around soon."

"I hope so," he replied, downing the rest of the drink and handing the mug back to Iris. "Thanks for the coffee."

"You're welcome, honey. You did get some of that pecan pie, didn't you? Daphne made it especially for you."

"Tell me she knows that we're third cousins," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"Do you think that would stop her from trying to feed you pie?" Iris asked with a smirk, very aware of the double entendre.

"It apparently hasn't stopped _you_ from trying," he said with a grin, pretending that his stepmother wasn't up to snuff on such lingo. "I had some already—that is the _pecan _pie," he added, seeing the mock look of shock on her face.

With a laugh, Iris propelled him toward the doors and then followed him back in to watch the scene with her family unfold.

"Where'd my money go?" Dave asked, settling back in the floor with the kids. His niece jumped into his lap before anyone else could beat her there.

"You landed on Park Place _and_ Board Walk," Zach answered.

"What did you do with my turn, Alex? Wait, when did those hotels get there?" Zach shrugged his shoulders and the rest followed suit.

"Psst, Uncle Dave," Alexandra said, tugging at his sleeve, and then whispered in his ear what had happened. He glared at the kids gathered around the boardgame but they all disintegrated into giggles and piled on Dave to tickle him. For a while, his family was once again the focus of his attention.

TBC…

**

* * *

Author's Notes: **Just so y'all know, I'm staying completely away from the whole Lita/Edge situation. I have my opinions about it but it's not my place to comment on their personal lives. Ergo, I'm sticking with my original storyline of Lita and Matt together, especially since the majority of this was written before I started posting it and I had no idea what was going on with them then. 

Also, I received a reply back from Admin regarding the use of song lyrics even if we give the writers/singers credit and/or use the lyrics as a backdrop. I have had to take _Beyond the Nights _down and I'm asking around about anybody having a website they would want to host it on. Just checking into things right now. E-mail me since we can't post website addresses in chapters or reviews.


	12. Decorations and Celebrations

For ratings, disclaimers, etc., see chapter one.

_**Chapter XII: Decorations and Celebrations**_

"Look who actually came to visit," Cheryl's grandfather exclaimed and pulled her into a hug.

"I know, Papaw, I know. Things have been so busy with wrestling that I haven't had much time for myself."

"Enough time for that wrestler fellow," her grandmother piped in, wiping her hands on an apron and wrapping her in a hug. "The one with the greasy looking hair."

Cheryl inwardly sighed with relief that she wasn't talking about Batista. "He just uses a little more mousse than necessary. Besides, we've not been dating in months."

"Then you need to spend that time making up with that adorable girl you got in a fight with on Monday," she said, slipping an arm around her granddaughter's waist.

"Grandma, it's not real." Cheryl was in awe and shock that her grandmother was watching wrestling.

"I know that, honey," she replied with a laugh and pinched her cheek. "I just wanted to see the look on your face."

Cheryl shook her head and followed her grandmother into the kitchen. With only her maternal grandparents still alive, she had fallen into helping her mother and grandmother cook for Thanksgiving dinner every year while she slapped away hands that wanted to "help" but really wanted to taste test. Pierce's family had been a bit stuffier about their dinner that was always held at the same time on the following Sunday with everyone banned from the kitchen by her mother-in-law. She still talked to her former sister-in-law on holidays but she wasn't exactly welcome by the rest anymore.

After a long hug, her mother put her to work chopping vegetables for the various dishes. The Leigh/Morgan family had a veritable smorgasbord when it came to Thanksgiving but the preparation was as satisfying as the meal. Craig passed through and asked how Dave was doing but Cheryl deflected the question. She didn't exactly want to explain the sordidness of their break-up, although she refused to call it a break-up.

This was her third Thanksgiving without Pierce and he was barely on her mind. However, he was apparently on everyone else's mind. After dinner, she was hardly left alone in her tryptophan haze. Maybe it was sympathy or maybe it was because they were afraid she'd run again. The first year it had taken Cathy, her friend and her parish priest, to even get her back to the island before the holiday weekend was up. A month later at Christmas, Cathy had had to steal the key to Pierce's wine cellar but at least Cheryl was already _on_ the island. It had been long enough for her to think that she didn't need baby-sitting but she indulged her family. Her younger cousins had gathered around her to hear as many wrestling stories as they could, only to be run off by two uncles and one aunt to hear the more adult side of wrestling. Using planning the wedding as an excuse, she slipped off to her old bedroom to finally take her tryptophan and stress induced nap.

* * *

On the day of the wedding, Cheryl's house was busier than a beehive and the redhead thought often of retreating into her bedroom and locking everyone else out. But she reminded herself that this was her idea and she had to follow through. Plus, there was an extremely nervous Nidia being readied by Lita, Victoria, and Nidia's sister in the studio. Cheryl agreed to coordinate the whole affair and the brunette hardly knew what was going on beyond the vows and some of the food for the reception. At least she had control over the choice of dress, an off-the-shoulder, long-sleeve satin gown that hovered centimeters from the floor to keep it from dragging in the sand. There were no sequins, no lace, only tiny pearls accentuating her shoulders and wrists. Her only jewelry was pearl-drop earrings, a gift from Eric, that peaked out from under mass of curls that a thin veil hung from that was scattered with pearls of its own. 

Lita was fussing to Nidia about trying to apply her make-up with the brunette popping her gum when Cheryl checked on them. From there, she was about to check with the parents of the bride and groom who were loitering about in her living room and kitchen when Kurt Angle accosted her in the hallway.

"Mrs. Ellis! Mrs. Ellis!"

"_Miss_, Kurt, or better yet, Cheryl," she replied, putting a hand on his arm to calm him.

"Do you have any safety pins or—or—"

"What happened?"

"Eric split his pants when we held him down to give him…a…noogie," Kurt slowly finished as Cheryl glared at him.

"The seat of his breeches?" she asked and Kurt nodded. "Safety pins aren't gonna fix that!" Cheryl jerked open her hall closet door and began rifling through the contents. "Can you sew?"

"Not exactly?"

"Did your mom make your Halloween costumes growing up?"

"Yeah but what's—"

"Here," she replied, handing him the sewing kit. "Take it to her with my apologies and _yours_, along with Eric's pants. Now, is everything _else _okay?"

When Kurt answered 'yes,' Cheryl hurried down the stairs to pull the last of the quiches out of the oven. No caterers were available since most were occupied with weekend Thanksgiving dinners and the redhead was doing her best to feed the fifty people that were going to be milling about afterward. Somehow, the guestlist had grown from twenty to fifty within four days. She was entirely grateful that she had two good friends who owned hotels in the area and were willing to give discounts on such short notices.

Her family had agreed to help out and Craig and her father had found and set up folding chairs and the gazebo while her mother put up the decorations. There were no more white roses to be found on the island beyond Nidia and Eric's wedding, where every one of them now were. All of the approved guests were there and most were seated. After checking with the Leighs, she was back inside to find Mrs. Angle returning her son's repaired pants. With that done, the bride and groom's families were ushered outside, followed by the groom and his half of the wedding party.

Cheryl stuck her head inside her bedroom and called, "It's time!" All four women headed straight for a mirror. "It's a little cool outside but otherwise perfect. The wind's picking up some but I don't think there's anything to worry about."

Lita rearranged part of Cheryl's hair and then adjusted the pearl necklace she wore. The four women amazingly matched for pulling together a wedding in a week. The dresses were similar to Nidia's in that the style was long-sleeved, off-the-shoulder, and the material satin. They were deep emerald to off set the white roses and each woman wore a strand of pearls. Several of the men would be paying more attention to the ladies during the ceremony than the bride and groom.

With Lita's approval, Cheryl was finally allowed to leave, hurriedly waddling off in the form-fitting dress to cue the violinist, a friend of the Angle family. As Victoria headed down the aisle, Cheryl held a napkin out under Nidia's mouth.

"What?" she asked around a mouthful of gum.

"The gum."

"But I need it. I'm so nervous," the brunette replied, shaking one hand out and then switching her bouquet to it to jerk the other one loose from where she was clutching the flowers too hard.

"You are not saying your vows around that wad of gum," Cheryl ordered.

"Yes, I am."

"I have the power to stop this wedding." Nidia eyed her and then spit the gum out. "Alright, let's go."

Cheryl scurried into place and followed Lita down the aisle. The maid of honor, Nidia's sister, was last. The bride then made her way down the carpeted walkway amid gasps while Eric's mouth dropped open and his eyes bugged out.

Cheryl and the wedding party stood outside the gazebo that sported vines and white lights twisted throughout as the sun started to set. Listening to the couples exchange vows, the redhead was reminded of her own wedding that was so similar but then her thoughts immediately turned to Dave Batista. She had been so busy with planning the ceremony and its trappings that the handsome man was hardly on her mind. Now, she wanted to plop down in the sand and sob all over again. She chalked it up to the emotion of the wedding and dabbed at the few tears.

By the time the ceremony was over, Nidia had had them laughing and then crying. That's what you got when you let _that _woman write her own vows. She was a true gem and Eric knew it. The newly married couple recessed to the beach house and the wedding party followed. Cheryl edged around the two who were making out in the kitchen to arrange a few more items on the bar and carry trays into the dining room as the guests began to file in. Knowing so few people, it was easy for the shy woman to retreat into the kitchen and claim she was taking care of the food. She hovered in the doorway to keep an eye on the table and watched Nidia, a vision in white, drift in and out of rooms and play a much better hostess than Cheryl ever thought of being. It wasn't that Cheryl wasn't doing it, it was just Nidia filled the position without even trying. She floated around, joking, showing off her ring, and hardly hiding the fact that she was due in seven and half months. That meant only one thing for the Monday Junk Food Club—besides finding a better name—a baby shower.

"Chica, thank you so much! This was perfect, much better than the courthouse," Nidia exclaimed, wrapping Cheryl up in a hug.

"I had a lot of help."

"But it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't brought it all together. So…what're you doing here? Go mingle," Nidia prodded, trying to push her towards the living room.

"I'm just making sure I keep your guests in food and wine," she replied, gesturing at the overflowing table.

"Hmmph…Where's Dave?"

"He couldn't make it," the redhead quickly answered, a little too quickly. "He's with family."

"Really?" Cheryl nodded in answer. "You're a terrible liar."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You can't play dumb, you're not blonde," Nidia said, picking at her hair.

The other woman slapped her hand away and sighed, "This is your wedding day. I don't wanna talk about it."

"You're going to," the bride replied, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her into the kitchen.

When the conversation was all over, Cheryl was slightly miffed—well, actually a lot miffed—at Nidia for siding with Dave but she wasn't about to ruin the day for her by arguing. She put on a 'happy' face and saw the couple off in a fully-loaded Dodge Ram that Eric had somehow found to rent for his new wife. She really couldn't hate the woman and still wished her happiness as they left for a bungalow on the other side of the island.

With a sigh, Cheryl returned to a disaster in her home. With the bride and groom gone, most of the guests were filing out and she hoped that her cleaning up would encourage the others to leave. Kurt was leading an entourage to "The Zone," of course courtesy of Cheryl, and the majority of people were going with him. Darkeyah had agreed to open an hour early just for them.

The coordinator slumped into the kitchen and began putting away the leftovers, wishing it could all wait until tomorrow. She just wanted to go to bed, completely exhausted from cooking all night and decorating all day, but she knew she wouldn't be alone for two more days. Lita and Victoria were staying with her and they were all flying out early in the morning to make it to RAW just in time. Hopefully, they wouldn't be too tired. For now, they were helping to put her home back in order and not by request of Cheryl. She tried to send them to "The Zone" with everyone else but, obviously, they were just as exhausted. Not long thereafter, somehow, they ended up a bit tipsy, a bit giggly, and fell asleep where they dropped on the sofas in the living room.

* * *

Cheryl had thrown herself into her family's Thanksgiving gathering, the one day she wasn't bombarded with concern over the wedding, and, between the two events, had thus managed to keep Batista from off her mind. If only she could have diverted her brother's questions in another direction again after their planned dinner date next Wednesday. Craig had managed to take vacation time for a week, sans Nicole, who couldn't convince her work to let her spend a week in South Carolina. All the better, Cheryl wasn't willing to share him with his girlfriend, even if they had been dating for three months and he still claimed that she was _the _one. He always kept falling in and out of love and he really didn't know what love was—in _her_ opinion. Besides, the girl du jour was always his excuse for not spending more time with his family. 

The two lounged on her couch, sipping wine and flipping through television channels. "Cher, where's your Christmas decorations?" Craig asked, glancing around the room.

"I didn't see any point in putting them up. I'm not here enough," she shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. "Besides, I've been busy with the wedding and that just wore me out."

"You have to decorate. You've not decorated since…well, you know… I thought you might this year because of Dave and all. C'mon, we've got all night," he enthusiastically said, setting his wine glass down and jumping up from the sofa. "Where're they at? In the attic where Memaw kept them?"

"Craig, it's alright, really," she pleaded.

"We've got nothing else better to do tonight," he said and pulled her up from the couch.

"Fine," she sighed.

Cheryl stayed at the bottom of the attic ladder to catch the decorations as Craig dropped them down. He finally emerged with the tree, his brilliant copper hair a dull orange from the dust he had collected. She had always been jealous of the color of his hair, wondering why he was lucky enough to inherit the family's red instead of getting the orange citrus of hers.

While Craig fumbled with setting up the tree, which was Pierce's job for a reason, Cheryl put on a Christmas CD, strung lights in the window, and hung garland around the stairs' railing. Her brother announced that the tree was ready as she pinned the wreath of metallic jingle bells to her door.

"You're awfully quiet," Craig said as they began to hang ornaments. Cheryl shrugged her shoulders in reply. "I know it's got to be tough around this time of year. I miss him too…obviously not like you do," Craig added with a slight laugh.

"I would hope not," she said with a one-sided smile but grew quiet again as they continued hanging baubles.

"Cher, you can talk to me if you need to."

"Why do you think something's wrong?" she asked, from the other side of the tree with icicles in her hand.

Craig's head appeared from the other side. "Because your chewing your lip again," he replied, pointing at her mouth. "Has Dave realized you haven't moved on?"

"I _have_ moved on. Why can't you people get that?" She felt justified in her comments because it wasn't her husband that was on her mind, it was Batista. She had held on, waiting for him to call, but, when the weekend had passed with no call, she was beginning to lose hope.

"Sis, what's going on?"

"Nothing," she said forcefully. "Or at least, nothing I want to talk about."

"Look, I don't want to make you mad or anything. I'm sorry I upset you. _If _there _is _anything, you know my number."

"I'm sorry, sweetie," she replied and hugged him to her. "You wanna put the angel on? You're taller."

"I did it at grandma's. You do it here," he responded and handed her the topper that had belonged to their Great-great-grandmother Leigh.

When Craig had settled down in one of the guest rooms, Cheryl sat alone, a bottle of wine from Pierce's wine cellar on the end table beside her. Her thoughts lingered on two men: one she had lost forever and the other one that she thought she might love and _could _have lost forever. Yet, he had been the one to walk away from her because he couldn't live with the fact that she was a young widow. After so long, the lights on the tree began to grow fuzzy and she realized she had had enough if she was going to drive Craig to the airport in the morning.

TBC…

**

* * *

Author's Notes:** I had several comments about how mean Batista was to Cheryl. I didn't mean for Batista to be that bad to her. I was thinking more along the lines that he's trying to shock her into realizing what she refuses to see. I casually hint that his stepmother had to do the same with his father, so he kind of knows what it's going to take. I also had him take a few comments too far because no one's perfect and people almost always say something they don't mean and will later regret in arguments. 


	13. An Acceptance of Blessings

_**Chapter XIII: An Acceptance of Blessings**_

Luck had it in for her so far as Cheryl had managed to miss seeing Batista at the house show and at RAW. Last week, the storyline bout between Cherry Leigh and Lita had been set up as they had gotten into a backstage fight again with Eric Bischoff intervening and making the match for the next Monday. The redhead paused at the door when she heard her name.

"Don't tell Cheryl about them," Victoria quietly warned.

"Tell me about what?" she asked, pushing the door aside anyhow.

Victoria's face screwed up and she whispered, "Oops."

"Nothing," Trish added.

Lita condescendingly shook her head at the two of them. "Do you promise not to kill anybody?"

"Depends on what it is," Cheryl replied, putting her hands on her hips.

"Promise," the other redhead demanded.

"I promise…" she trailed off but continued after Lita's glare, "…not to kill anybody _today._"

"Good enough," Lita replied. "They've hired _another _diva contestant and brought anothergirl up from OVW—Candace and Melina."

Cheryl's eyes dropped to the floor and she slumped down to the bench. "There's no point in getting angry when you can't do anything about it," she said and then looked back up. "I worked with Melina and she's okay. We got along, generally because we didn't talk to each other but I don't remember Candace. How bad is she?"

"She wascut early on but I don't _think_she's as bad as the idiot triplets," Victoria volunteered. What ended up being bad was that they were too overeager to make friends with both sides of the lockerroom. Melina, all of a sudden, was showing interest in Cheryl when she never did in OVW. Lita encouraged the women wrestlers to attempt to be friendly with the new hires since they were making an effort.

Cheryl needed a moment away from them despite their attempts at being amiable. Nidia's absence, warranted or not, still hurt and she could use the woman to confide in at the moment. The brunette was still officially on her honeymoon and Cheryl refused to interrupt the precious time. A walk to hospitality and back would do her good.

A forbidden chocolate chip cookie in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, Cheryl was caught off guard when somebody grabbed her arm from behind. She spun around, hiding the cookie behind her back, to find a grinning Edge. "I haven't talked to you in a while. Where you been hiding?" She shrugged her shoulders. "With Dave, I bet. Haven't seen him around much either," the blonde mused with a 'hmmm.'

"Did you ever, uh, get him back for, you know," she stuttered, trying to steer their conversation into another direction.

"Yeah," he answered, beaming a large, toothy smile, "yeah, I did. He hasn't said anything?" She shook her head. "I'll let him tell you."

Cheryl resigned herself to never knowing and not really caring either. "You been okay? Seriously? You and Dave seem to be avoiding everybody lately?"

"Everything's fine, really. I've been caught up in Nidia's wedding and all."

"Ah, Nidia. That went well?"

"Mmm-huh," the redhead replied, thinking about a way to get out of the conversation. Yes, she hadn't talked to Edge lately, mainly because she was absorbed in Dave, and, yes, they had been avoiding everybody recently because of the break-up. She hadn't even told Lita and Victoria, so there was no way she was going to tell Edge, that is, if he didn't wheedle it out of her anyhow.

"Just out of curiosity, what exactly are you hiding behind your back?" Edge asked, trying to peek around her.

"Nothing," she replied, twisting away. He tried to look around her the other way and she turned to the other side. "Why does it matter?" she asked and couldn't help but laugh at his dodging around and their turning in circles over a simple cookie.

"'Cause maybe I want some."

Cheryl whipped around with her back to him and crammed the rest of the cookie in her mouth. "foo 'ate," she muttered through the crumbs.

"Too late? You dog!"

"I know," she replied, after swallowing and taking a drink of water.

"I miss hanging out with you," he said with a snort of laughter.

"Me too," Cheryl sighed, slightly surprised at herself for missing someone's company other than the girls'.

"After you ask Dave about me getting back at him, let's hang out together."

"Okay," she slowly drawled, wondering what in the world the man had done. "Well, I gotta go. My match is coming up soon."

Lita and Cheryl walked through the high spots again of the match in question during the commercial before they were to perform when the members of Evolution walked by after their in-ring promo. Cheryl's eyes caught Dave's form and then immediately dropped to the cold floor before she turned back to Lita. She could see him watch her out of the corner of her eye for a moment before moving on with the group.

"You not getting any of that sweet ass?" Triple H laughed, slapping Batista on the back. "If she was mine, I'd tell her like it is…"

Dave whipped around, grabbing Hunter's wrist. "Don't talk about her like that."

"Sounds like somebody needs to get laid," he nervously replied and tried to pull away.

"I said, 'Don't talk about her like that,' and she's not yours, so keep your nose out of our business," the dark-haired wrestler angrily replied.

"Dave," Ric Flair ordered, putting a hand on his shoulder. "He's just kidding you." Batista turned to glare at Flair and then threw Helmsley's arm back at him before stalking off.

Cheryl's body had reacted to Dave's skimpily clad one as she saw Triple H slap him on the back. Her heart had twisted to the point of taking her breath away as his muscles, perfectly sculpted muscles that begged to be touched, tensed. By then, the faction was out of her sight. The tension crackled in the small space and Lita stopped talking about the match. "What's going on?" she demanded.

"Nothing. So, we end after the hurricanrana but then—"

"You and Dave didn't speak to each other," Lita observed.

"We kinda broke up…I think. It's something I don't want to talk about. I'd rather focus on our match. Now, after the hurricanrana…" Cheryl stopped at the sympathetic look in Lita's eyes. "Please don't talk about this to anyone and, whatever you do, don't try to put us back together. It's something we have to work through if… Alright, what else do we need to talk about for the match?"

The bout went off without a hitch. Cherry Leigh fought cleanly against the women's champ until Lita almost had her pinned. She then began to incur a few warnings from the ref, such as hair pulling and using the ropes. However, Lita came out on top with the belt. Cherry Leigh rolled out onto the apron while the other redhead celebrated in the ring. She then slipped back in with a steel chair and laid Lita out before exiting to a chorus of boos. It was only about to get worse.

After the commercial break, Cherry Leigh pleaded before a seated Triple H. She paced with a can of beer in her hand, something Cheryl only drank because Creative wanted her character to do so. "Is that enough for you now? They think I'm on your side and, if they want to be that way, then here I am."

Hunter folded his arms across his chest and regarded her with pursed lips. "So, what are trying to say, you want in on Evolution?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not asking but if you let me in…"

"To answer your question, turning on Lita isn't enough. You're gonna have to do something else to prove yourself, to prove your loyalty…"

Cherry Leigh rolled her eyes and glanced away from the camera. "Alright, what is it?"

An evil grin spread across Helmsley's face as he steepled his fingers together. "First things first, we need to refine your taste," he said, taking the can from her hand and replacing it with a champagne flute. The vignette cut as she tossed the liquid back.

The fans wouldn't learn for two more months what the grin meant. Batista's place in the faction was already on shaky ground and the time was ripe for him to turn on Evolution also. Within the next couple of weeks, Cherry Leigh was to hook up with Batista and act as if she's on his side as he leaves the group. Once on the other side, she, as the guest referee, was to turn on him in his first match against Triple H for the title and she and the rest of Evolution would leave him a bloody mess in the ring. Cherry Leigh would then become the third member of the faction.

Cheryl dropped to her couch in a fit of laughter when she read the storyline, which had been sent to her home. She had been indulging in some fanfiction and so many stories had that female member of Evolution as they rode the waves of the top, while, of course, maintaining that quintessential relationship with one of the other three eligible guys. Cherry Leigh was the first official female member of Evolution and the group was nothing but Triple H, the one man every wrestler hated, and Ric Flair, an old fart that needed excess skin removal surgery. _Whatever keeps me in the business, I don't care, _she thought and tossed the large envelope aside.

However, she did begin to care about her storyline with Evolution as the next RAW called for her to put the moves on Batista. It would have been so easy if they were still together but the vignette director made them do the scene three times because they were so stiff. Flair and Helmsley exited the lockerroom, leaving Cherry Leigh alone with Batista. She insinuated herself into his lap and a surprised Batista protested, claiming he didn't want to lose any important body parts because Hunter caught him with his sister.

"We'll just make sure he doesn't find out," she purred and proceeded to kiss him, relaxing the tense man.

When the director yelled cut, the two sprang apart, their skin burning from where they had touched. With filming wrapped up, Dave and Cheryl stood facing each other for an awkward moment, wondering what they should say to each other. "I-I'm gonna go," she said, jerking her head in the direction of the hall and then moving off when he nodded.

Cheryl had no idea how she was going to make it through this storyline with her nerves intact. Every hair on her body stood on end and her insides were jelly. Feelings were pulling her apart as she wanted to touch him again and be kissed but she was still angry at what he had said to her and that he had yet to apologize.

When she thought it couldn't get any worse, Cheryl pushed open the door of the women's dressing room. The redhead's stomach started to churn at the strong scent in the room. "_Someone _sent you flowers," Victoria announced, "I think _someone's _trying to make it up to you."

Cheryl stumbled backward until her back met solid wall when she saw the large vase of lilies. The room was closing in on her and she couldn't breathe. Her gaze was fixed on the white flowers of death and her feet were rooted to the spot. Fighting down the nausea the scent always caused, she couldn't believe that someone had dared send them to her. Lita had to shake her to bring her out of the trance and Cheryl rushed outside, the sickly sweetness still in her nostrils.

"What did Dave do to you?" Lita, asked, smoothing Cheryl's hair back from her face while she held her head between her knees. The newer diva shook her head in response. The redhead continued to stroke the other's hair until she was ready to talk.

"W-was there a-a card?" Cheryl finally murmured, her white face turning red in anger over the sender's audacity.

"No," Lita softly replied.

"I'll kill the bastard," she muttered under her breath, realizing that only Dave Batista knew the flowers repulsed her. He hadn't said a word beyond what was necessary while filming the vignette earlier, adding guilt to his name according to her. _Non-confrontational, my ass, _she thought, jerking up from where she sat.

"Cheryl, _what _happened?" Lita asked, putting a hand on her arm. When the offended woman didn't respond, Lita was sure all she could see was red. From past experience, she knew to let her go and get it out of her system but hoped no one "important" was around.

Cheryl slammed her first against Batista's lockerroom door. "How could you?" she seethed when he opened it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dave replied.

"Don't play dumb with me. The lilies?" she angrily demanded. He furrowed his brow and shook his head. "Someone sent me lilies and you're the only one I told about that."

"And that's exactly why I would never send you any. Someone else had to."

She rolled her eyes at his suggestion. "Alright, smartass, who did?"

"I don't have a clue," Dave replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"Either way it goes, it better not be you," she replied, poking a finger in his chest and turning to go.

His hand shot out to grab the door handle and blocked her way. She jerked her fiery eyes to his, expecting to find anger, but was surprised to find pity. "This proves my point exactly," he said and removed his hand from the knob.

Halfway down the hall, his words hit her like a ton of bricks. Dave was right, more right than she wanted to admit. She was still hanging onto Pierce, that extra little bit, forming a wall that was just a few inches too high to climb over. She felt hopeless, hanging by her fingernails to the top of that wall. The distressed woman sank to the cold concrete floor as she gasped for breath. The realization had hit her physically as well.

Glancing at her watch, she remembered Shawn Michaels' invitation to his study group. Finally regaining her breath, she shakily rose and began to wend her way there. Shawn was the next best thing to her parish priest. She paused a moment, wishing she had something to cover her bare shoulders, but then slipped inside and settled into a chair outside the group. Shawn waited until Jeff, a guy that Cheryl remembered as working in pyrotechnics, finished speaking. He then beckoned her over, pulling up a chair beside him. "It's about time," he said with a smile, recognizing her state of distress. "We were just takin' pray'r requests. You have any you wanna add?"

Cheryl opened her mouth but closed it as she saw the five guys and two ladies in the room staring at her with genuine interest. "Un-unspoken," she meekly answered and looked down at her hands which she was twisting to the point of making her knuckles white. She and Shawn Michaels were on opposite ends of the spectrum when it came to their beliefs. She had grown up Methodist and then "converted" to Episcopalianism for Pierce. While it wasn't required to be married in the church or to take Communion, she still did so believing it would strengthen their marriage. Despite the difference in beliefs, she respected Shawn's and assumed he did the same of hers. She considered herself spiritual rather than religious but Shawn's passionate prayer for those around him helped to relax her. Her mind no longer raced as she _focused_ on her feelings of betrayal, betrayal of love and trust.

This week was apparently Alice's week to do the devotion and Cheryl listened to her soft voice speak of the true meaning of Christmas and the peace and love it brings. When she finished, everyone filed out but Michaels and Cheryl. With the room empty except for those two, Shawn turned his chair towards her and asked, "Do you need to talk?"

She slowly nodded, took a big breath, and let it all tumble out. Shawn listened intently, nodding occasionally but never showing any sign of judgment. "What did I do to be so unlucky with men?" She threw her hands up in exasperation. "I'm sorry," the redhead said much softer.

She glanced at her watch and Shawn put a hand over it. "I've got all the time in the world you need," he said and she dropped the arm with the watch on it. "Cheryl, do you realize how blessed you've been?"

"I've had the worse luck of anyone," she sighed, dropping her head into her hands, her elbows propped up on the table.

"You keep sayin' 'luck' and 'fortunately' and talkin' about what you've _lost._ Cheryl, you were given a gift in your husband. You weren't unlucky in losin' him. You were blessed with, what, five years with Pierce, five years you wouldn't have otherwise had. You're not unlucky with Edge or any of the other guys you've dated. Y'all weren't meant to be. And you're not unlucky in running into this bump in the road with Dave. You are blessed by havin' another person to love. I can tell by the way you talk about'im that you love'im. Cheryl, you are blessed, not unlucky, accept those blessin's, don't resent what you call bad luck, embrace the gifts you've been given and quit lamentin' what you think are losses."

Cheryl sat still, barely nodding her head as she took in Shawn's words. She finally lifted her eyes to him and said, "Thank you."

"Any time, and I mean that," he replied and squeezed her hand. "Think about what Dave said and think about what I just told you," he added as she rose to go.

When Cheryl returned to the dressing room, the lilies were gone and she had nearly forgotten about them. She was too busy deciding on what to do next than to worry about who had sent them but the girls immediately wanted to know what had happened. Keeping the story to the bare minimum, she hoped for little sympathy as now she realized that most of her misery had been brought on by herself. For fear of her reaction to learning the sender's identity, Cheryl said nothing about wanting to know but the other women made comments about the possibility of who it could have been.

After the show, Victoria pulled her aside and whispered, "Nidia may be gone but that doesn't mean I didn't learn anything from her. I know who sent the flowers…Stacy." Cheryl's mouth dropped open as she quickly forgot about the fact that somehow Victoria knew about her and Dave breaking up and Lita was probably the culprit. "I overheard her talking to Melina. Melina was saying something about you getting lilies at OVW from this guy and flipping out because of something with your husband and then Stacy laughed and said 'I know.'"

"Oh, really?" she said, her cheeks turning red and her eyes lighting up with anger as she remembered the episode. This was exactly why she didn't want to know who sent them. The first guy she tried to date after Pierce's death had stupidly sent her lilies to the training facility. She had had much the same reaction, except she had locked herself in the bathroom for half the day, attempting to gain some self-control to be able to make it back to her hotel room. She had confided in one woman there who had apparently passed it on to someone else for Stacy to know her reaction had to do with Pierce.

"Cheryl, you're already on thin ice with management." She didn't hear a word as she saw the person in question enter the dressing room. "You know what they think about backstage fights," Victoria warned and grabbed her as she darted out toward the blonde, having learned quickly to stand up for herself. Cheryl ripped her arm out of Victoria's grasp and speared Stacy into the wall from behind. After a few well-placed punches, she threw the woman on the ground, driving a knee into her back and pulling her arms painfully backward. The entire lockerroom only watched, either not wanting to get involved or enjoying Stacy getting what she deserved.

"Tell me why," Cheryl ordered. Stacy said nothing and her attacker jerked her arms tighter. "What did I do to you?"

There was still no response but, with a few twists, the blonde cried out, "It's your fault Molly was sent to SmackDown!"

"What does Molly have to do with it?"

"She's my lover!" Stacy cried.

Cheryl dropped the diva's arms and slid off of her. "What? But Test…"

Stacy skittered away from her and began rubbing her shoulders. "Test was a cover-up," she replied, rolling her head then testing her swollen jaw with her fingers. "Do you know the things the writers would try to make us do if they knew? Or what the guys would think or say? So we didn't want it to get out that we were lovers. Too late now," she added, glancing around at the curious stares.

"Why _me_?" Cheryl asked, resting against one of the lockers.

"Molly was sent over to make a place for you," the blonde spit out.

"But it's not my fault."

"It's _all _your fault," she vehemently replied.

"I didn't come in here with the plan to get rid of Molly," Cheryl explained. "I idolize the woman."

"She's gone and you're not," the former cheerleader replied through clenched teeth.

"There's nothing either of you can do about it," Lita stepped in. "This has got to stop."

"I'm not apologizing," Cheryl quickly said, jumping the gun.

"Me neither," Stacy added, crossing her arms and turning her head away.

"Fine, no apologies," Lita mediated, "but can we manage a truce?" Both women whipped their heads around to glare at her. "You don't have to be best friends. Just stop this childish fighting."

"I promise to leave her alone if she promises to leave me alone," Cheryl said petulantly, picking herself up off the floor. Stacy nodded and Cheryl held out her hand to help her up. The blonde thought about it for a second and then accepted. "Truce?"

"Truce," Stacy replied and they dropped hands.

"Now, not a word of this goes outside this room," Victoria announced in a threatening voice. "I can easily find out where each of you live and the backstage rules don't apply there." The moment ended there and the ladies in the lockerroom drifted back to their usual sides.

TBC…


	14. It Has to Be Me

_**Chapter XIV: It Has to Be Me**_

All RAW employees were given a week and a half off for Christmas, except for the poor technical crew that had to throw in clips from the last episode to round out the two hour segment that would air in the live show's place. Batista walking out on Cheryl had put her in such a funk that she had done little of her Christmas shopping. In a frenzy, she finished up Christmas Eve morning and arrived at her parents that afternoon, not long before Craig and Nicole. The brunette was now sporting a two-carat diamond on her left hand and everyone kept their comments to themselves, hoping that this girl really was the one after being given that _rock_. Nicole, an only child, was spending Christmas with them because her parents were on a cruise in the Mediterranean, a gift from their daughter.

The five of them gathered around the television, eggnog in hand, to watch _A Christmas Story_. Cheryl tried to pay attention to the movie but she kept rolling Shawn Michaels' words over and over in her mind, just as she had done the past few days. Truth of what he said was finally sinking in. There was something she had to do and she needed the support of part of her family but it would wait until the next day since they had all indulged in more eggnog than was necessary.

Even though she was well past the childish excitement, Cheryl woke early Christmas morning but with a heavy mind. The family, including Nicole who was going to be official kin in the summer, gathered around the tree to open presents. After a small breakfast, they drove to her grandparents' home for more gifts and a late, large lunch. The Christmas meal almost rivaled Thanksgiving dinner.

When her parents were napping, Cheryl sidled up to Craig. "I need to ask a favor of you. I know Nicole is here but I don't want to wake up Mom and I don't want to bother her with this either."

"What is it?" her brother asking, furrowing his brow in concern. She explained what she needed and Craig nodded in agreement. He pulled Nicole aside and apologized for leaving her alone with his grandparents but the brunette said it was alright and that it gave her more time to get to know the couple.

Cheryl drove, feeling it was more of her willpower to get done what she had to do. Craig offered to come with her but she shook her head and slid out of the car. The cold wind pushed the woman to her destination. She had stood in this place only twice: once for the interment and once to approve the erected headstone. The pain had been so deep the second time that she refused to go again so as to block out the grief from seeing the plot that contained the remains of who had once been the center of her universe. She approached on shaky legs and then dropped down to the cold, green grass that now covered what she remembered to be ugly, brown dirt. The widow had expected to fall apart the second she saw the grave but a peace began to envelope her as she took deep, calming breaths and focused on the headstone.

The stone was a dusty rose, a color she chose because it was different but really because his mother protested. The letters were rounded, proclaiming the bare facts of his life. She ran her fingers over his name and then the inscription: _How shall I hold my soul, that it may not be touching yours?_(1) The verse had been chosen, not because that was the poem he had quoted to her when he had proposed or when they had married, but because that described his life. It was impossible for his soul not to touch whomever he met.

She righted the poinsettias that had fallen over, apparently put there by one his family members. The bouquet of carnations and alstroemeria that she had brought were placed beside the red ones and then she carefully unwrapped the package hidden in her coat pocket. They had had the shotglass bearing their names specially made on their honeymoon, an extremely lazy week on a resort in Mexico. Rearranging the flowers and shotglass several times, she finally let her hands drop to her lap. "Pierce," she whispered, trying her voice. Then the words began to tumble out. "I'm so sorry I left you here and never came to see you. But you left me too." She sniffled and took a deep breath. "I wanted to blame you for not listening to me and going on into the club, but how could you have known? How could anyone have known? I did what you told me. I kept living. I wrestle for the WWE now but I'm sure you know that. Just like I'm sure you know that I've met someone. I love him, baby," she said, her eyes tearing up as she rubbed her hand across the grass, "but it doesn't mean that I don't love you. I couldn't give myself to him _because _I couldn't let you go. I came to tell you—"

She stopped as she started to choke on her words, continuing through shuddering breaths. "I came to tell you that I'm letting you go. If I'm to keep living, I have to tell you 'goodbye' and take a chance with Dave. I know you understand, baby. I will always love you but I have to say 'goodbye.'" She ran her hand across the grass one more time, lightly grazed his name on the stone with her fingertips, and rose to turn her back on the grave.

A breeze that, only in her imagination, felt warmer than the wind that had pushed her to the grave ruffled her hair as she returned to the car. She put a hand to her heart and the sobs slowly began. Craig climbed out of the vehicle to meet her and pulled her to his chest. When the tears no longer blurred her vision, she pulled away from her older brother and whispered, "I'm ready to go." He helped her into the car and she left Pierce to finally rest in peace as she went in search of her own peace.

* * *

Cheryl rose early in the morning as usual but forwent her routine jog on the beach and headed straight for the mainland before the tourists came out. She stared at the gray building for several minutes to remind herself of why she was truly here before finally climbing out of her car and walking into the complex with a purposeful stride. 

The redhead gathered the necessary forms and settled into a plastic chair and began to complete them. Once done, she took a number, knowing she wouldn't have long to wait since fewer people were in the office than normal, which were mostly Latinos. A woman called her number and she settled into one of the booths and handed the papers over with a smile. "I'll need an extra copy of that first one, please."

When all the signatures were in place, Cheryl walked next door to the post office, which was now buzzing with people. Finding the right envelope, she slipped one of the copies inside with no note, sealed it, and addressed it before finding a place in line. Humming a tune from the drive that morning, she slapped the envelope down on the counter. "I need this sent overnight, please. How much will that be?"

Twenty-six hours later, Dave Batista signed his name to accept the white and orange envelope. He had seen the delivery person pull as up as he sipped hot coffee and stared out the window at the snowflakes beginning to fall. He wished he could have Cheryl in his arms, wrapped up in a blanket by the window while a fire roared in the fire place. It was one of the moments he regretted every word he had said to her well over a month ago. Everything had come out the wrong way and he wondered if maybe he should try talking to her again. As much as he wanted her, he wouldn't take her back with her husband but, at least, an apology for the way he had said things might make them working together bearable.

Noticing the return address and hoping for the best, he eagerly slit the top of the envelope and a single sheet of paper slid out. He shook his head in shock and slipped down to the couch to take in what the form now meant for them. He stared at the blanks that she had filled in with her neat print, officially changing her name from Cheryl Leigh Ellis back to Cheryl Inez Leigh.

* * *

Cheryl was putting the finishing touches on her perfectly applied make-up and carefully arranged curls when her cellphone rang. "Hello?" 

"What's your mother's cure for morning sickness?" Nidia asked with a groan.

"Sucking on salted apples. Did you lose the directions for pickling them?"

"I can't find them," the woman on the line whined.

"It's not morning. Are you okay?"

"It's been going on all day today. Can I give you some advice, chica? Don't get pregnant," Nidia moaned.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I thought I put the directions in the card with your painting. Did you check the envelope?" Cheryl asked, stepping out of the bathroom and reaching for her wrap and purse in the closet.

"No," she sighed. "I'm taking you with me to check." There was a lot of thumping and rattling around as Nidia continued to talk. "I put the painting in the livingroom above the TV where nobody can miss it. I know I've said it before, but it's so good!"

"You didn't have to do that," Cheryl replied, abashedly. It was one of her best but, of course, she was the type of person to think all of her work was average. On her end, only her parents and Craig had seen the portrait she had painted of Nidia and Eric in the gazebo on their wedding day. As family should do, they praised her work.

"So, what are you getting into tonight? Any kind of celebration?" the brunette asked, followed by some more thumping.

"I hope so," Cheryl answered, checking through her purse for all she needed for a possible night on the town.

"Sounds promising…Ooo, I found it! Thank god! What would I do without you?"

"Find another recipe that would work?" the redhead offered.

Nidia grunted and then said, "So, wha'cha got going on that's promising?"

"I'm going to throw myself at Dave's mercy to get you to stop pestering me."

"I'm sure getting me off your back isn't exactly why you're going to. It's more like getting it on with—"

"Nidia!" Cheryl exclaimed and then sighed. "I miss him so much. I'll burst if I don't talk to him, if I don't kiss him again, if he never touches me again…"

"Quit talking to me and go get him, tiger! Best of luck," the brunette laughed, obviously feeling better from their conversation, and hung up before Cheryl could protest.

"You look fantastic," Lita called with a whistle as Cheryl clapped her cellphone shut and emerged from the small hallway.

The other woman twirled around in her clingy blue dress that revealed enough skin to leave little to the imagination. "I'm going to make up my stupidity to Dave, start the new year out on the right foot."

"I heard. I hope you enjoy," Lita said with a wink. "I won't stay up."

Cheryl laughed as she headed out the door. On her way to Dave's room, the nervousness set in and she took a deep breath and rubbed her sweaty palms across her dress. She stopped to check her appearance in a mirror in the hallway when she saw the reflection of a couple she didn't quite expect pass by. Quickly turning around, the redhead watched Edge and Leila turn the corner, completely absorbed in each other. _When…how… _she thought, pointing at the empty corridor and then putting a finger to her lips in thought. Shaking it off, she knocked on Dave's door.

"Hi," she breathed out when Dave answered.

"Miss Leigh," he said with a nod, gesturing for her to come in and trying to hide the look of surprise on his face at her appearance.

"You got my package," she exclaimed with a smile, trying hard to refrain from clapping her hands together. Her worries about his reaction to her after mailing him the name change starting to dissipate.

"Yeah," he replied, shutting the door behind her.

"Randy around?" she asked, glancing through the room.

"No, he'll get in tomorrow morning. I've not been here long," he replied, gesturing towards the black pants and maroon dress shirt he still wore even though his bare toes peeked out from under the hem of his pants.

"I can come back later. Let you shower…"

"No, stay."

"In that case," she said, taking a few steps toward him, "I love you." He blinked at her, savoring the words, and she closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I love you," she whispered again.

A corner of his mouth turned up. "I hoped so. After I got your package, I hoped that's what it meant."

"You were right, all of it," Cheryl began to explain, caressing his cheek. "I set things straight and I think you should know." She explained her Christmas trip and ended with, "I'm so sorry, for what I did, for what I've said."

"I'm sorry, too. I said some things I shouldn't have and—"

"That's not true. I needed to hear all of—"

"Just listen to me," Dave interrupted, placing both his hands on the sides of her face. "I accused you of some things that were uncalled for and said a few more things about someone in particular that I don't even know and I was too stupid to apologize. I thought I was so right that I didn't need to apologize."

"That's what took me so long. I thought everything you said was completely wrong but _I _was wrong…well, except for the ring. It was a gift from my mother, it wasn't his."

Dave slightly blushed with embarrassment and loudly exhaled. "Wrong or right, it's all okay now," he said and leaned down for a kiss. "I love you too," he said when they pulled apart.

"I had still hoped so," she said and laughed against his chest but then looked back up at him. "You smell like the airport. Why don't you get a shower? I can wait."

"Wait for what?" he asked, heading for the bathroom.

"You. It _is _New Year's _Eve_. You're supposed to be with the one you love on New Year's Eve," she lightly replied. "Have you had supper?"

"Yeah, I stopped right before I got to the hotel," he answered through the cracked bathroom door and turned on the shower.

"If you want, we can go out and celebrate the New Year or whatever," she suggested, however hoping he had other _suggestive _things on his mind so she could show him how much she loved him.

"Sure," he replied and Cheryl settled in a chair, wondering if she should take the chance and undress. Listening to the pelting water from the bathroom, she finally decided that if the nature of her outfit didn't send the message, then he was probably too tired anyhow.

"I left my clothes in here," he announced, startling her out of her thoughts. She sucked in her breath at the sight of his hard, tanned body offset by the white towel. "That is, unless I don't need any."

She shook her head in reply and quickly left the chair behind, launching herself into his arms. With excruciating slowness, he carefully peeled her out the dress and her lingerie, his towel getting lost somewhere in the process. With both of them completely naked before each other, physically and emotionally, Dave ran his hands down her arms and then snaked them across her hips. Every pore of her body screamed in want. The desire building at her core was aching to erupt. He pulled her to him, her curves fitting the hard plane of his body. She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his lips and body against hers as he lowered her down.

"Look at me," he whispered. She opened hazy eyes, clouded with her want of him. "It has to be me tonight…it _has _to be _me_."

As much as Pierce was _never _far from her, he was now nowhere in the vicinity. She cupped his face with her hands and whispered, "It couldn't be anyone else…even if I wanted…Dave."

He groaned low in his throat. "Say my name again."

She coyly grinned, her downcast lashes hiding her hazel eyes. "Dave," she whispered, lifting her gaze to meet his. "Dave Batis—" She never finished his name as his mouth devoured hers and they lost themselves in each other.

As both of them lay together completely satiated, Cheryl traced the tattoo around Dave'sbelly buttonas she curled against his side and he ran lazy fingers up and down her back. Glancing at the clock, he suddenly grinned and stated, "I've got an idea." He pulled his arm out from under her to drag the phone to the bed. "Wait, go to the bathroom and shut the door. I want it to be a surprise."

Pulling the sheet off the bed to leave him completely naked and playfully glaring at her, she wrapped the cloth around her and left him jokingly muttering curses. Shutting the door behind her, she noticed his wallet lying open on the sink and that one of the umpteenth hundred pictures of his niece had been replaced—by one of her from Nidia's wedding. It was a solo shot, a request by Mrs. Eric Angle of each of her bridesmaids. She herself had only seen the pictures last week and here Dave had one already. Cheryl felt even more guilty for their month long separation but then realized that she had an incredible man that loved her and, if that separation was what it took for her to realize that, than it was worth it.

When she could no longer hear his soft voice, he called her back. The redhead spread the sheet back around them while Dave flipped on the television. "For the countdown," he said before she assumed that he just wanted to watch some television.

They lay with their legs entwined while roving hands casually roamed. The knock at the door startled Cheryl but Dave climbed off the bed to pull on a pair of shorts. "Room service," the voice on the other side called and Cheryl couldn't wait to see what Dave had requested to be sent up. He returned with a bowl of strawberries and bottle of zinfandel in a bucket of ice.

"Since we sorta skipped this…" He sheepishly smiled and handed her the bowl of fruit so he could open the bottle. "Look, we've got ten minutes 'til countdown," he said, pointing at the television and handing her the wine glass. After Dave climbed back in beside her, she popped a strawberry in his mouth and then he did the same for her. Nibbling on fruit and sipping on wine, they waited to ring in the New Year.

When Times Square shouted "ten," Dave turned to Cheryl and quietly toasted, "To a new start and a new year…together." She clinked her glass against his and downed the rest of the zinfandel. He took it from her and set it aside as the countdown hit "one." Strawberries and wine mingled together on their tongues as they drank greedily from each other. Dave fumbled for the remote control, never once letting go of her. He turned off the television and turned himself whole-heartedly to the woman who had given the same of herself back to him. Dave Batista once claimed that he couldn't grow anything that bloomed but Cheryl Leigh was living proof before him that he could indeed.

FINI!

(1)"Love-Song" by Ranier Maria Rilke

**

* * *

Author's Notes: **Well, it's over! I have no intentions for a sequel at this moment. Don't have a clue where I'd start. If anybody comes up with anything, feel free to e-mail me and I'll gladly give you credit. However, I do have a sequel in the works for _Playing Charades _tentatively called _Twos and One-Eyed Jacks Wild_. I'll begin posting it here in the next couple of weeks. Both fics involve Shawn Michaels and Kevin Nash. 

Also of interest is my first wrestling story posted here _Where Loyalty Lies. _It's about to undergo a major overhaul. Reading over it recently, _Oh the horror! The horror! _I realized that my writing has come a long way and my writing style in _Loyalty _is, um, somewhat lacking. I won't be changing the vast majority of the storyline but I will be filling in more details, adding new short scenes, and correcting those glaring holes/gaps. I don't want to completely take the story down but there is no way to alert readers to updates. So, if you would like to know when each chapter is revamped, please e-mail me and I'll send you e-mail updates. Chapters One and Two are now updated if you'd like to check them out. Just don't read ahead!

Well, it's been a great ride, y'all! Thanks for all the reviews, suggestions, and just for reading!

A big thank you to all my readers and especially to those who reviewed:_ lucyzigg, Insane Zula, WandaXmaximoff, huntersgirl, SexySuitcase, Kora Flair, wrestlenascargirl, kiss316, Toby7, Latisha C, aimz619, Exyla4now, leelooJinn, Jess420, Jen105, coors1977, J3r1ch0h0lic4eva, RKOThug21, aussiewrestlingfan,sugar-skyline,shannfan14, LovinRKO, Shiyu-Inuyahsa,shady-angel821, Moi,cassy7, Zanna Avons, Kissybabe84, mel,sarahblue23,Roxy1984, jamie L_,_CenasNakedInMyBed _and _batistafan_.


	15. Epilogue

**Author's Notes: **My stories are acting all screwy with how they are posted in my account. So, to fix them, I'm having to post new chapters to each. And since I can't just post author's notes, I've written an epilogue of sorts. I don't like to wrap things up so neat and tidy as to have my couple get married at the end (yes, I've done it before) but a great friend of mine Clare (her pen name is **_WandaXmaximoff_; user id 747588**) borrowed Cheryl for her _Fine Line Between Love and Hate _(It's a Cena fic, ladies! Go read it! There's a sequel coming!) and I've been dying to write something else with Cheryl and Dave but haven't come up with a sequel yet (plus, I'm working on the third part to my Loyalty series). Since Clare wrote the two of them as being married, I wondered how exactly that engagement and wedding would go given Cheryl's past. So, here's a bunch of sappiness and fluff. Btw, Samantha Edwards from _Fine Line _makes an appearance in this. I don't own her but you know who does (see above). ;)

_**Epilogue**_

Cheryl Leigh stood in front of the full length mirror as five women fussed about her, smoothing down imaginary wrinkles on her dress and twisting her curls before patting them back in place. She was oblivious to the cooing and praising going on around her by the four women dressed in identical red satin gowns and her mother, attired in a pale pink fitted dress suit. She was moments away from walking out that door and becoming Mrs. David Michael Batista. The woman shivered at the thought and Roslyn immediately asked if she was alright. "Just nervous, momma," she replied with a slight smile.

Nicole Leigh, her sister-in-law, waddled over with a bouquet of pink roses tied with a red ribbon and handed them to the bride. "Are you sure you can do this?" Cheryl asked of the woman who was now eight months pregnant. Her dress hadn't been intentionally ready until four days earlier.

"I feel great," she gushed. "I'm just so glad that I could be in the wedding. Afterall, you _were _in mine and Craig's." Nicole waddled off again and brought back the bridesmaids' bouquets of white roses, tied with pink ribbons.

Cheryl's mouth suddenly went dry when a knocked sounded at the door and she heard her brother, Craig, calling from the other side. "Are y'all ready in there?"

All the girls stopped, staring at Cheryl in anticipation. She nodded but then said, "I need just a couple of minutes alone, please." Nidia, Lita, Victoria, and Nicole filed out along with the bride's mother.

The diva carefully arranged her dress to sit on the stool that was in front of the vanity. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before reflecting over the events of the past six months that led up to this moment.

Right after Christmas, Dave had begun acting strange, hiding from her to make phonecalls and making sure she couldn't read his e-mail while he was checking it. Then he suddenly announced that he had a surprise for her but that it was a secret. She would find out that weekend, he informed her. This New Year's Eve they would have been together for three years—the couple had chosen that date since it was the first time that Cheryl had told Dave that she loved him.

That weekend, RAW had houseshows in California and would kick off the new year in Honolulu. When they landed in San Diego, Cheryl was surprised when Dave steered her in the direction opposite of baggage claim. "We have a connecting flight," he smirked. She stared at him dumbfounded until he stopped before a terminal that indicated that the next flight was going out to Honolulu. When Cheryl tried to form the question of what in the hell they were doing, he grinned and replied, "We have the weekend off and we're spending it in Hawaii."

"Oh, Dave! This _is _a surprise," she squealed and flung her arms around him.

"That's not the surprise," he replied, rubbing a hand over his chin. Cheryl paused, at a loss for what could be coming next. Maybe he had gotten them a room at a resort or a spa and he had a weekend packed full of things to do together.

For the most part, they slept late, swam in the ocean, snorkeled, toured the island by bicycle and helicopter, and then imbibed a little too much in the evening. On New Year's Eve, they had a romantic dinner in a fancy restaurant but then retired to their hotel room afterward, ripping off clothing before they were barely in the room. Minutes before midnight, the couple had turned the television up to hear the countdown to the new year while they sat out on the balcony to watch the fireworks that the concierge had informed they could see from their room. Clothed in complimentary terry cloth robes, Cheryl sat on Dave's lap, leaning back against his broad chest.

"It's almost time," she whispered, carefully turning around and straddling him to receive her new year's kiss.

"You know that surprise I mentioned?" She nodded, vaguely hearing the shout of "ten" on the television. His hand snaked down into the folds of the robe and produced a black jewelry box. "You are my entire life and I can't _ever _imagine being without you. Cheryl Leigh, will you marry me?" He flipped open the box to reveal a diamond solitaire flanked by two smaller rubies. He had wanted to ask her at dinner and had it all carefully planned out. He wanted to do everything different than when Pierce had asked her. But she had knocked over her wine at the table, shattering the glass on the floor. The woman had been so embarrassed that he hadn't want to call anymore attention to her by getting down on one knee and proposing in front of the whole restaurant. Looking back on it now, he knew it was a stupid idea as she was such a private person and was glad she had foiled his plan.

Cheryl blinked at him, completely at a loss for words. "One" rang out on the television and fireworks burst behind them. The different colors lit up his expectant face, reflecting the anxiety in his eyes, and she nodded before exclaiming "yes" and throwing her arms around his neck. She pulled back to kiss him and he slipped the ring on her finger before placing both of his hands gently on her cheeks. The fireworks illuminated her red hair and he thought she had never looked more beautiful. "I love you," he said and she returned the sentiment.

"Let's not wait. Let's have an island wedding. Just the two of us out on one those boats. You know that boat captains can perform weddings just as well," she excitedly gushed.

"You don't want a huge church wedding or something?"

"Been there, done that, don't need it," she replied, waving him off.

"You at least want your family there?"

Cheryl stopped and realized how selfish she was being. Dave had never been married and it wouldn't be right to deny him his wedding with his family and friends. "You know what, baby, we'll do whatever you want. This is your day too. It's just that I've been through it all before and…we'll make it _your_ day."

"I've got an idea," he replied, "you know those shows we're the groom has to put the wedding together with the best friend and all. Let me do it. You kick back and let me put it together."

"Oh, Dave, that's just too much to ask."

"But I _want _to do it."

"Alright, but just remember that I can't wear white since I've already been married," she warned with a grin, slipping off his lap and tugging him back into the hotel room.

Dave nodded at her comment, completely unaware that that was part of wedding etiquette. He'd talk to Nidia to make sure he didn't commit any more bridal faux pas.

The affianced couple agreed that six months would be enough time and set the date for the Summerslam pay-per-view, which was actually in Charlotte, North Carolina, a nice in-between location for both families, as well as allowing all the wrestlers and staff to attend who wished to do so. They were both granted the weekend and the following week and a half off and the story lines were written to include their absence.

Knowing Nidia was involved with the plans, Cheryl was hardly worried about what Dave would come up with. The only thing she didn't like about giving him full reign was that he spent a lot of time hiding from her to make the arrangements. Since they had moved in together two years earlier, the two were practically inseparable. They stayed in DC at Dave's place during the hot months of the year and then at Cheryl's in Hilton Head when it was cool. It was like having a vacation home and they loved the change of scenery throughout the year.

The most involvement Cheryl had in the wedding was the ability to choose her dress. Three months before the wedding, she still hadn't found one she remotely liked and Daphne, Dave's cousin who had been obsessed with him and had finally warmed up to Cheryl, offered to design and make her dress if she would model it for an upcoming show and allow her to keep the design as her own to maybe market later. The two worked together, Daphne convincing her to that she could indeed wear white if she wanted but the bride only conceded when they added a splash of color.

Six weeks before the wedding, Cheryl felt she had to make one particular visit. She and Dave stayed in South Carolina that week at her request. The morning before they were to fly out for the weekend for the houseshows, she rose early and quietly dressed but, as she was reaching for her keys, Dave appeared at the top of the stairs and asked where she was going. The woman was horrible at lying and muttered, "Nowhere in particular."

"Well, then you won't mind if I come," he replied and hurried into the bedroom to put on some clothes. He knew exactly where she was going and he wanted to come with her.

Cheryl nervously glanced at her fiancé as she drove down the four lane highway off the island and then pulled into the cemetery that was only a few miles away from her parents' home. She slipped out of the car but Dave didn't immediately follow—he wanted to give her some time alone.

The redhead stood at the foot of the grave and lightly tossed a lily onto the grass. She had overcome her aversion to lilies and bringing one was symbolic that she had accepted all that had happened to her. The shotglass was gone, probably taken by her former in-laws and thrown away or removed by the caretaker for the safety of others. It didn't matter to her because that was life. She shoved her hands in her jeans pocket and mouthed what she had to say. "There's no point in me telling you what I've been up to. I know you know and I know I have your blessing. I just felt as if I should, well, acknowledge you in some way." She smiled at the gravestone and turned around to find Dave watching her. He was surprised that she was done so quickly.

When his fiancée took his hand, he said, "Just a second. I'm right behind you." She nodded and headed on to the car. Dave had never been here before and it was never really his place to be so but he too felt he should acknowledge his bride's former husband. "Thanks for letting me have your wife, man," he whispered and winked at the grave before joining Cheryl.

The morning of the wedding, the redhead was collected by her bridesmaids—the only other decision left up to her—and whisked away in a blindfold by limo to an undisclosed location. The girls giggled all the way there and as they carefully maneuvered her out of the vehicle and into the building and to her dressing room. She was nervous about what her future husband had in store for her but yet so excited to see what he had put together. Realizing she had spent enough time alone, maybe too much, she gathered her skirts together and the bouquet and stepped through the door into a hallway that she was positive looked like an arena. Maybe they were indeed at an arena but some places had very nice attached gardens or banquet halls.

Craig greeted her and carefully hugged her to keep from wrinkling the dress. "I never thought this day would come," he said and kissed her on the cheek.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," she sarcastically replied.

"You know what he means," her mother good-naturedly chided. "We all thought that," she added and her father nodded in agreement. "But we're so happy that you've finally found someone who loves you more than the world and you're so happy with him."

Cheryl smiled and blushed. "Well, then let's not keep him waiting."

The small party carefully maneuvered down the hallways that was lined with WWE equipment and cords criss-crossing the floors. Cheryl knew now that she was in the venue for the Summerslam pay-per-view and knew that this could be very interesting indeed. When they stopped before the stairs that led up to the entrance, Craig left them and she began to wonder what in the name of all that was holy Dave had done. They climbed the stairs and gathered in the small area that was the gorilla position. The soundman asked if they were ready and when Cheryl nodded, "Trumpet Voluntary" started. She cringed and hoped no one saw her. The woman had casually mentioned that she did _not _want that song, especially if she had to walk the aisle to the "Bridal March." Nidia saw the face the bride made and smiled to herself. Oh, she was in for a surprise. As the bridesmaids began their entrance, Dave's sister ushered his niece, Alexandra, along with Nidia's three year old son, up the stairs. They were the most adorable flower girl and ring bearer attired in their miniature dress and tux. Alexandra was taking her role watching Joaquin very seriously as she grabbed his hand and led him out at her mother's cue.

Cheryl then stepped up to the black curtain, almost afraid of what she was going to see on the other side. With her parents flanking her, they swept the curtain aside and her eyes lit on the ramp that normally sloped but was elevated from the stage to the ring. The ropes were missing on that side of the ring but the rest of them were wrapped with vines. The mat was covered with black carpet and pedestals were in the corners with vases of red roses perched on them. A wrought iron lattice was along the back, vines and roses entwined in it. On the right side, the groomsmen proudly stood—Craig Leigh, Ric Flair, Randy Orton, and Triple H as best man. None of those were a surprise to her. Shawn Michaels standing in the place where she expected to see Kathy, the priest of her parish and who had performed her first wedding, was a bit of a surprise until she remembered that he indeed was ordained. She was honored that he would be officiating their wedding as it was he who had given Cheryl the initiative to reconcile with Dave.

Before she saw her fiancé, the stage rumbled with an explosion of fireworks and Trapt's "Headstrong" thundered into the sound system. She began to laugh uncontrollably as they proceeded down the "aisle." Roslyn casually produced a tissue and Cheryl dabbed at her eyes as she tried to focus on the ring. She grinned like a fool when she saw Dave step out from behind Triple H. For the love of god, he was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. He was dressed in a black tuxedo, a red and gold vest rather than a cummerbund, and an English collar with a button rather than a bow-tie and a red rose was pinned to his lapel. She only had eyes for him and it wasn't until the music stopped that she realized they had an audience cheering for them ringside. Family and friends were all gathered around the ring in long rows of fold up chairs.

Dave was blown away by his wife-to-be. She was amazing in his opinion, dressed in a long white strapless gown. The hem of the dress sported red gems in large sunburst patterns and a red sash was tied around the empire waist, which formed a small bow with the ends of the red ribbon falling halfway down the gown. Her hair was now several inches past her shoulders and her loose curls lay against her neck and back, only the crown was pulled away from her face with a long white, gauzy veil with red studs nestled in the curls. She only wore a hint of make-up, none of it covering up the freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks. Seeing his gift to her, he swallowed hard as the diamond pendant fastened to a red ribbon swayed sensuously in the hollow of her throat.

Shawn gave Cheryl a moment to take it all in before he began. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today. Wait, wait, wait," he said, waving his Bible around, "we have to do this right. Are you ready?" The audience let up a cheer equivalent to a packed house. Shawn bent low and continued. "For the thousands in attendance and the millions watching at home, Cheryl and Dave, get ready to get married!" Neither of them had been expecting that and dissolved into laughter. This was by far not the most orthodox wedding anyone in attendance had ever witnessed.

When the cheering had died down, Shawn continued in all seriousness, asking who was giving the bride away and then offering up a prayer. Cheryl wound her arm around Dave's and the two stood side by side until it was time to say their vows. She handed her bouquet to Nidia and grasped Dave's hands as they faced each other. She wanted to laugh at how much their palms were sweating.

Dave spoke first and had them laughing as he recounted his story of chasing her and then thinking she was married and then believing he had lost his chance when she was dating Edge. He kept it discreet, not mentioning about the first time they made love or when he had demanded that she let Pierce go. She could see it all in his eyes. He ended with how much he loved her and how he was going to make her his princess for the rest of his life. He then slipped the accompanying jacket around her engagement ring.

Cheryl stared up in his chestnut eyes and licked her lips before beginning. "I will n-never forget…" she began to falter. The redhead only stuttered when she was talking with an unfamiliar person or very nervous. Dave had been terrified that she had changed her mind when they were running five minutes behind and now she couldn't say their vows. She dropped her eyes to their hands and he gently squeezed hers. Cheryl took a deep breath and then looked back up at him before launching into her memorized vows. She was shaking like a leaf as she slipped the gold band with embedded diamonds on his finger.

"Everything is gonna be alright from here on out," he whispered to her as they stepped aside while Lilian Garcia began to sing a song that she had personally written some time back but hadn't recorded yet. Dave wrapped an arm around his bride and she placed her hand on his chest, admiring the ring.

She and Lilian were not close and she whispered to Dave, "How did you get her to sing?"

"Well…" he began. "We dated once."

"I take it that you ended on amicable terms," she replied with a smile, realizing that even though she didn't know everything about her new husband, she had a lifetime to break that mystery that was Dave Batista. He nodded in response and gave her a sheepish grin.

Shawn said one more prayer before he added that there was one more surprise that neither of them knew about. They both looked at each other in horror as John Cena climbed into the ring and proceeded to treat the audience to a special rap, written especially for Dave and Cheryl. By the time he was done, her face was red, all the way to the tips of her ears and she truly hoped that her grandmother wouldn't be as embarrassed as she was. Still, they had to put the WWE touch on it for the wrestlers and staff in attendance.

The couple once again stood in front of Shawn who traditionally concluded the ceremony. "By the authority vested in me as a minister of the gospel, I now pronounce you husband and wife, in the name of the Creator, the Redeemer, and the Sustainer. Therefore, what God has joined together, let no one put asunder. Dave, you may now kiss your bride." The catcalls went up from the audience as his mouth descended upon hers. As many times as they had kissed before, this was as if it was their first one, sweating palms, trembling hands, and pounding hearts. If this was a preview to their wedding night, she wanted to skip the reception. Shawn jokingly kicked Dave in the shin and the two finally broke apart. The older man grinned at them and then announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, may I be the first to present to you Mr. and Mrs. David Batista."

Dave's entrance music sounded and Cheryl knew that it could end no other way. After his pyro went off, the newly married couple then recessed up the ramp to the stage. Behind the black curtain, they once again kissed, oblivious to the fact that the place was becoming crowded as the bridal party was filing in. They were immediately shooed back out on the stage so that the photographer could take pictures of the bridal party. After several arrangements, they were all hurried into the ring for more pictures. Then it was only Dave and Cheryl's turn as the photographer creatively worked with the decorations so that the arena melted into the background.

After it was all over with, the redhead allowed her husband to escort her to one of the banquet halls where they would have refreshments before the two left for the bridal suite of the hotel they were staying in. Dave surprised her again when he told her they would be staying in the Caribbean until they had to be back in two weeks' time.

In the banquet hall, a table was set up with a large white cake and a long table with finger foods. Everyone was expectantly waiting on them to cut the cake so they could dig in. The couple carefully cut a slice and Dave lifted the small piece to his wife's lips as she did the same for him. He knew that she had threatened Pierce within an inch of his life if he shoved the cake in her face but that didn't stop Dave and she was shocked as she turned away, snorting the cake out her nose. Her mother hurried over and handed her a handkerchief but then produced a whip cream pie that Dave didn't see. With a wide grin, Cheryl whipped around and plastered him in the face with the tin. Scrambling away before he could get his hands on her, Cheryl was shielded by her bridesmaids and a few of the other divas.

"That was my idea," a blonde said in her ear and she smiled at Samantha Edwards, the new girl who had been brought up to RAW a couple of months ago and that Cheryl had taken under her wing as the new wrestler's mentor.

"We are going to get along so well," the redhead laughed in response.

Once the newly married couple cleaned themselves of cake, they mingled among their friends and family until the wrestlers and staff could wait no longer until time to finish preparations for the pay-per-view. Even though it was early afternoon, Cheryl tossed her bouquet and Samantha caught it. The redhead didn't miss the sarcastic comment made by John Cena at the blonde or her equally acerbic retort. God knew what was going on there. Dave made way too much out of taking her garter off with his teeth but it only went to show how much he loved her and how proud he was of her. When Orton caught the red lacy garter, a collective sound of disgust echoed throughout the crowd.

The couple dashed through the bubbles their friends and family were blowing at them and then ducked into the waiting limo. "God, I love you, pum'kin," Dave said, pulling her close and brushing his lips across hers.

"I love you too, baby," she replied. "Everything was perfect."

"I was so afraid," he responded, tangling his hands in her hair and pulling her in for another kiss. Finally drawing back, he solemnly stared into her hazel eyes and added, "I meant every word I said in there, Cheryl Inez _Batista._"

"You remember when you made me say your name?" He nodded—it was a moment he would never forget. She leaned in very close and murmured against his lips, "You'll never have to ask again."

After the soft kiss, Dave pulled back and asked, "Is this a good time to let you know that I'm posing for Playgirl the day after we get back?"

FINI!


End file.
